


Through the book maze and other drabbles

by traumschwinge



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Animal Charles, Animal Erik, Creepy Noises from the Dark, Drabble Collection, During Canon, Ficlet, Honeymoon, Internal Monologue, M/M, Post Beach Divorce, Rat!Charles, maze, shark!Erik
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 30,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumschwinge/pseuds/traumschwinge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newest additions:<br/><i>The one with the Graveyard</i> Charles takes the short cut over the cemetery on his way home. In the mists, he meets some gorgeous stranger.<br/><i>The one in which a Corgi is petted</i> Don't let yourself be fooled, Erik loves his Charles and their corgi too, even though they're rather cuddling in bed with each other than both with him.<br/><i>The one with the punny cup</i> Erik gets the wrong mug of coffee from his assistant. But after a short talk, that doesn't matter anymore.<br/><i>The one with the rumors about Charles and Emma</i> Erik hates every second he has to spent in the cafeteria at work, listening to his co-workers speculate about his husband dating that evil Emma Frost.<br/><i>The one in which each of them tries to hide a body</i> Charles killed his step-brother. It had been an accident, happened in the heat of the moment. He still has to hide the body, though. While in the woods, he meets somebody else with about the same thing in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Through the book maze

**Author's Note:**

> I'm slowly trying to get myself comfortable to write fics for this fandom, thus the drabbles. Any critique would be greatly appreciated for I don't really know what I'm doing yet. Also, I don't mind requests, so feel free to ask, I guess?
> 
> EDIT:[ Requests are still welcome](traumschwinge.tumblr.com/ask). Most of these drabbles are from my Tumblr.

Charles raised his head and sniffed. His whiskers were trembling. He was sure he had just heard something other that the sound of his bare feet on the stone floor or the crackling of the makeshift match-torch in his hand. But there was nothing there he could smell but books and age and stale air. So he moved on, clinging closer to his torch.

Then, again, he heard the sound, closer now. A low growl.

By now, all of Charles was trembling. This couldn't be a cat, could it? There wouldn't be a cat in this centuries old maze of a library. He started to walk faster, as fast as he dared with his torch in hand, afraid that it might go out and he would be left in the dark.

He wished he knew the way out. Or the way to the middle where they had told him his love would be waiting for him if he only found his way there. He had to walk on. If only he wouldn't be so troubled by the sounds. Telling himself that it was just the wind howling through the empty spaces between the bookshelves was no use. Not once had he been able to feel even the tiniest move in the air in here.

A while later, Charles reached stairs, leading of in the darkness below, when he heard another growl. It was so close this time that it made his fur stand on edge. Without even thinking, Charles ran the stairs down as fast as he could. He had been sure the sound had come from behind, just around the next corner.

His torch flared but to his relief remained alight. Right now, the only thing Charles feared more than the sounds were meeting the source of it in darkness. And he was feeling that he was getting close. If he paid close attention, he could even hear the sound of water splashing against the walls of a basin.

_Erik, my love,_ he thought, _just wait for me, I'll be there soon._

Only one more time did he dare to stop and sniff again. He wasn't sure in which direction to head when he had reached yet another junction. The books and shelves down here looked older than the ones had on the story above. And the smell was different, even older and staler. But there was also the smell of salt and water in the air like bright rays of sunlight and it made Charles hope again.

Only a few more turns, and Charles was sure he had almost reached the middle of this wretched labyrinth. That was when he heard the growl again, so close now he was sure he could feel the monster's breath against his neck. Charles turned around to face whatever dared to stand between him and his dear only to find himself looking ready to fight empty air. He couldn't even see evil eyes looking at him out of the darkness behind him. Shaking and clinging to his now half burnt torch as if for his dear life, he made his way further, towards where he could hear and smell water and hoped to find his friend.

He had just passed a stone archway, that led him into a cavern like room, when the growl returned so loudly, Charles dropped his torch which rolled away but didn't go out. He sniffed. Still, there wasn't any monster he could smell. All he could smell now was this room and the overwhelming and welcome smell of salty water. He must have reached the middle of the labyrinth.

As soon as Charles was sure he wasn't going to get eaten by a giant cat, he collected his torch again and took the room in. It was indeed a cavern, with a great pool in the middle. Somewhere in the water, he could see a figure moving, swimming around in circles.

“Erik!” Charles cried out in relief. “Wait for me, my friend, I'm here to save you!”

He put the torch down as close to the pool as he dared to. Maybe he would need it once more. Then, he took some deep breaths, before he ran the rest of the way to the pool and jumped in, swimming to the shark in the middle and trying to get a hold of his friend. He just hoped Erik would recognize him and not eat him.

When he reached the shark, he let a soothing hand brush over his scales. His friend seemed to be nervous but recognized him. Charles would have liked to linger but he had seen or rather felt a thick rope around his friend when he had swam by. So he made his way back to the surface to get some more air, before swimming down again.

It took him three dives, before he had gnawed through the rope and freed his friend. Then, he had to surface once more, but with Erik on his side this time, so he could cling on to his friend's fin rather then swimming on his own. He was exhausted and glad, but more than pleased to have his friend by his side again.

“You're not alone anymore, my friend,” Charles murmured. He just hoped Erik would know a way out because there was no way they could go back the way Charles had come.

“Let's get out of here,” Erik grumbled. “Hold onto me for a little longer, okay? There's a way out of this pool, the same they brought me in, but it's underwater and might be a bit. But I'm sure I'm fast enough so we'll make it. Just let me make sure and rest a bit for now.”

Charles shook his head. Now that he had found his friend, he didn't want to let him go again. And he surely didn't want to wait alone in the dark. “I trust you, my friend,” Charles said. “Let's get out of here.” He grabbed the fin a bit tighter, just in time before Erik dived again.


	2. Nightly crossroad thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik's thoughts at the night he's about to leave the CIA and Charles Xavier for good.

What did that Charles Xavier think he was? Telling him that he knew all about him, just when Erik was ready to leave that wretched CIA base for good. It wasn't like Erik wasn't grateful for being saved from drown—scratch that, he wasn't grateful in the slightest. He had missed an opportunity at getting Schmidt and make him pay. It didn't matter that deep down he knew he would have died trying if Xavier hadn't been there that night. He just couldn't bring himself to admit that dying shouldn't be an option, not now at least.

Why he still was sitting here in front of the base and thinking instead of getting back on the road, tracking down Schmidt once more escaped his mind.

But other mutants! There were other mutants, people like him and Schmidt and the people Schmidt kept around himself. Another telepath, even, just like that Emma Frost woman was. If they would work together, if they could work together, next time he met Schmidt, maybe for the first time since he had started his hunt, chances would be even.

And yet... what had the boy said? He knew everything about him. Just like that. Just because Charles Xavier was a telepath. He had to know that Erik shouldn't be trusted, that Erik didn't do well working together with others. The other things everything would mean made Erik shudder. He tried to push those thoughts away, bury them back down where those memories he didn't want to remember belonged. Had Charles Xavier really seen them? He couldn't know, not now at least. Maybe if he asked. But he didn't want to ask. He wouldn't like the answer.

He should really be leaving soon. No matter how much of an advantage working together with Charles Xavier would be, with that overall charming telepath, he couldn't.

But why not? Because he didn't like being tied down, having others by his side? But Charles was right. He wouldn't stand a chance alone against Schmidt. Just like the man he hated so much, he should be gathering others around him, mutants like him. But that also meant meeting Charles on his terms. Which meant working with the CIA just like the young fool seemed set on doing.

They were humans and even worse, government agents, people who took orders and obeyed them. Erik could imagine himself working together with Charles, maybe, if he never let his guard down and didn't let the telepath into his mind too much, too deep. But working with a human government? With people who obeyed orders from some sort of distant command? Never in his damned life.

If he maybe could convince Charles of working without the CIA. Maybe then he would... what? Would he really want to work together with Charles Xavier? He knew the answer was no and yet... He wouldn't want to, but he wouldn't mind either. Together, maybe, they could really take on Schmidt. If only he could convince him of leaving the humans to themselves.

It wouldn't hurt to wait until the morning with his decision, he told himself. After all, all his leads wouldn't get any colder as they were in the meantime.

No need to rush the decision, he deep down knew to already have been made.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy little piece of "I-don't-want-to-do-my-homework". Erik wonders if he could stop the world from turning.

“I was thinking,” Erik suddenly says, putting down the book he had been reading.

Charles glances up at him. He was in the middle of thinking about a way to help Hank with Alex's new suit. He blinks a few times at Erik. “About what?” he finally asks.

“About manipulating the earth's magnetic field,” Erik replies. 

Charles gasps. “That's-” he starts but Erik holds up a finger to interrupt him.

“I was going to say, that I wanted to do it so we could be together for a night that lasts all eternity,” Erik goes on. There's a small smile appearing around his lips. Now, Charles is blushing, but he doesn't turn away from his friend. They look at each other for a long while.

“Oh Erik,” Charles finally says, putting down his pen and getting over to the couch Erik's on. He leans down for a kiss. Only seconds later, he's pulled down on Erik's lap and into a hug.

–

“I hope you do realize,” Charles, feeling completely happy and content, says later, “That this is a stupid and dangerous idea.”

Erik presses a kiss on the top of Charles' head, before he answers, “Of course I do. Then again,” he smirks. “It worked.”


	4. Cooling Depression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After returning to the mansion after what happened on Cuba, Charles suffers from insomnia and is haunted by the past.  
> Warning for depressing themes.

Charles stared broodingly into his mug of coffee. It had to be his ninth or even tenth cup so far this night but it didn't help anymore. It wasn't good enough to keep him awake any longer and he knew it. His body was aching for sleep now. But he also knew that it was only doing so now. As soon as he would lie in his bed, sleep would yet again fail to come.

It had been like this for days now. Ever since he returned to the mansion and to this bed he'd once called his own. He would heave himself onto this bed, lie still for a while and wait for the sleep that would never come until he passed out from exhaustion. But that wasn't the worst part of it, it never was with this kind of insomnia, was it?

When ever he relaxed enough to be close to drift off into sleep, he started to think all these thoughts he kept at bay during the day. Like the fact that he still couldn't feel his legs. One should think that after the last thirty years, mankind should have found a way to deal with all sorts of bullet wounds. As painful as it was, though, these thoughts were more welcome to him than all the other thoughts that came at night when nobody was there with him to keep them away.

Nobody to keep him warm when he was cold and alone, nobody to focus on when he was distressed and afraid of projecting. Nobody to remind him that eventually, things would change.

And change they always would. The last few months, maybe even the whole last year was as much as a proof for that as anything. So many things had changed. He had returned from England to the country of his birth, had made new friends, brought them to his home to live with him and had fought and tried and pushed and despaired and … lost.

There were so many good things lost. So many good things lost that he started to wonder if Raven was right that he was too optimistic for his own good. Raven, oh Raven, it hurt so much when he thought about her. He had done her so much wrong and she'd repaid him no less than what he'd done. In a way, he understood that. He wanted to understand that and remind himself whenever he felt anger sully the feelings he'd always had for her, the feelings he'd still had for her and always would have. Blood or no blood, she was still his sister. He just wished himself able to see that she wasn't a child anymore as well.

Charles refilled his mug one more time. He knew that the caffeine long lost it's power over him but then again, if he kept on believing that coffee would help him stay awake just a little longer it would work. And besides, pouring and drinking the coffee at least kept his hands occupied. He was good at making himself believe in hopeless cases. Weren't his actions proof enough of that? His failure and foolishness out there for the whole world to see and tell.

But all of this wasn't the reason for his insomnia, was it? Even though he kept on telling himself that they were also the reasons why he didn't want to sleep. It was as simple as that, chasing one nightmare out with another, chasing the worst of his nightmares out with the whole rest of them. Just so he hadn't enough regret and pain left to spare for the worst. He wished that would leave wrath behind, but even for that, he was too tired.

He was tired of fighting his nightmares. He needed sleep. He should be sleeping and then take on the nightmares one by one. It wasn't his fault that other people made other choices, believed in other realities and other truths than him. There was nothing to blame on him but his own mistakes and own regrets and, ultimately, his words.

Charles placed the yet again empty mug in the sink. He took is best efforts to concentrate on the task of cleaning the mug and putting it back next to the coffee maker. Then, he started to clean out the coffee maker as well. It didn't take him much time, but it served his purpose. Everything to delay his retreat to his room. Everything to stop him from thinking too much.

It was tiresome to push his chair down the long corridor. He'd never guessed that moving a body just with his arms would be this hard. Then again, he wouldn't want to reach the door to his room to soon. Just focusing on the ache of his muscles after a long day was enough. A burning ache to silence the dull one.

Behind the wooden door his room awaited him. An empty bed to lie in until morning would come. A place to warm.

All alone. All in dark.

Without ….

  
  


  
  


  
  


Erik


	5. The Target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mob Boss AU  
> MobBoss!Erik leads Charles to a very special target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this [manipulation](http://sasheenka.tumblr.com/post/72107846797) by [sasheenka](http://sasheenka.tumblr.com/)

"So, where are we going this time?" Charles asked as he followed his boss down an empty street.

"Your next target," Lehnsherr replied without even turning.

Charles looked around. This neighborhood looked almost boringly normal. There were small shops nestled in between small houses where small families lived their small lives on small earnings. It wasn't bad. Just poor in a proud, suffocating way. The street and all that could be seen of the gardens and houses was pristine and well-ordered. Charles couldn't help but wonder what kind of target his boss could have in mind. 

Usually, he sent Charles after competitors or the occasional small fry that thought he could trick one of the most powerful mob bosses in the whole country. But that meant other neighborhoods. Men like that could be found either in far better parts of the city or far far worse. 

Charles gripped the gun inside the pocket of his coat harder.

This thoughts had kept a part of his mind occupied but not enough to miss that his boss had suddenly stopped. They were now standing opposite to one of the small shops. Charles wondered what this was all about. They didn't collect protection money in this part of town. And even if they did, what would that have to do with him? This wasn't usually his business.

"What do you think?" Lehnsherr asked, nodding towards the shop.

Charles took a closer look at the shop, but it told him nothing new. The big shop windows were glass, easy to break but noisy, the door having only one lock and he couldn't see any iron bars or shutters that would be drawn in front of them in the middle of the night. And he supposed that there would be another entrance in the back, not to speak of the possibilities of climbing up to the roof and look for an entrance there.

"A fairly easy target, sir," Charles answered. 

Lehnsherr nodded. "Right," he murmured, deep in thought. Then, he turned away. If Charles hadn't been watching him closely, he would have missed the moment of reluctance in his movement.

"May I ask a question?" Charles broke the silence that had settled between them as they walked back down the street to where the car was parked. As Lehnsherr nodded, he continued, "What was this about?"

"Can't you guess."

Charles sighed. "Well, I see that this is not the usual way we do these things. There's no reason for either of us to come out to inspect a target in bright daylight. That is, if this was a target at all, which I doubt. Was this some kind of test?" he ventured, keeping his voice down in case someone overheard.

Lehnsherr shook his head. "It is a target," he said softly. He stopped again and turned around to face Charles. There was something in his eyes that Charles had never seen before but he couldn't tell what it was. It could have been adoration.

"Xavier, if anything happens..." Lehnsherr started, then shook his head. "No, even if things start to go wrong, I want you to protect that place." He sighed. "It's as you said. An easy target. I always knew it is. But it's important to me. That's why I'm telling you and nobody else. Protect my family if I can't."

Charles blinked at his boss for a moment, trying to process what he'd just heard. "Your family...? Sir?" He tried to force down the lump in his throat that had formed at that implication.

"My mother, to be exact," Lehnsherr explained. The pressure on Charles' chest lowered a bit. So there wasn't a wife and children.

"Sir," Charles started. He had to ask this. He needed to know. "Why are you telling me this?"

Lehnsherr smiled at that, something that always did weird things to Charles' stomach. "Isn't it obvious?" Lehnsherr asked. 

"Out of all people, you're the only one I can trust."


	6. Wrinkles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik really shouldn't be angry that much. It's bad for his complexion.
> 
> Stupid little piece about the depth of the wrinkles on Erik's forehead.

Erik wakes to the feeling of some thin, long piece of metal near his forehead. He’s about to open his eyes and jump at the attacker, when he recognized Sean and Alex. So, he doesn’t even open an eye.

"What do you think you’re doing?" he asks.

The metal, which Erik by now has identified as the ruler from Charles’ study, disappears from his forehead.He opens his eyes to two very startled looking teenager and two smaller children hiding behind Alex.

"Nothing," Sean lies, hiding that ruler behind his back as he takes a few steps back and away from Erik.

Erik pushes himself up to a sitting position. “And nothing did require a ruler?” He arches an eyebrow.

"Well," Sean starts but he’s interrupted by one of the children. Scott, Erik recalls, Alex’ little brother.

"The professor said you have those deep wrinkles because you always worry so much and then Sean said that they’re at least two inches and then I said they must be as deep as the Great Canyon and then Sean said no way and I said that they were and…"

"Is there any point to this story?" Erik interrupts the boy. He feels already exhausted.  _Charles?_  he projects but there’s no answer but the distant feeling of something like amusement.

"Well, we decided that this would only be settled by measuring," Alex explains.

Erik nods. Well, at least that sounds sensible. “And you thought it would be best to do so while I was napping instead of just asking?”

Alex grins. “It’s not like you would have agreed.”

Erik has to admit that the boy has a point. He sighs. “Well, don’t do that again, I almost attacked you.” And he knows that would have been a bad thing to do. Charles didn’t take kindly to him doing anything that bore even the possibility of hurting any of the kids.

_I wish you wouldn’t think so just because of me_ , Charles chides him. So he had been listening.

_Thank you for calling me old_ , Erik thinks in his direction.

_I didn’t call you old,_  Charles denies, but even his mental voice sounds amused.  _I like those wrinkles on your forehead. They make you look experienced._

_Which is just a nicer word for old,_  Erik grumbles though he can’t help but feel fond of Charles.

_I love you, too,_  Charles’ voice whispers inside his mind. Erik grins.

Alex clearing his throat interrupts him before he can answer that.

"Well?" Erik asks. Right now, he would rather be searching for Charles _the_ _lab, darling,_  than dilly-dallying with those kids.

"Well what?" Sean asks.

"How deep are they?" Erik wonders. It’s not like he hasn’t noticed the wrinkles himself. He just hadn’t paid them any heed.

"Er…" Sean looks at the ruler in his hands. "You woke before I could measure."

Erik nods. He had hoped for this. “Too bad,” he announces. “Because Alex’s right. I won’t let you measure my wrinkles.” He does his best not to glare at the younger of the Summers brothers. “But I can assure you that they’re not even close to the Grand Canyon in depth.”

Erik stands up from the couch he had been napping on. With some pleasure, he notices that Sean and Alex retreat a little further. “If you’d excuse me now,” he says as he walks to the door. He wants to find Charles now. They should be talking about this. Probably.

_I think they look rather handsome on you, you know,_  Charles chuckles.  _And I’m still in the lab. Alone._

Erik grins as he makes his way through the mansion to Charles.There has been no mistaking to what Charles had meant by that last part.


	7. Spring Eve in Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Erik visits the Eiffel Tower during his honeymoon with Charles, he'd never felt that powerful looking at it.

Erik was standing on the platform above the Jardins du Trocadéro, looking down onto them and further over the Seine at the Eiffel Tower. Charles was next to him, leaning against him with a fond expression. Erik could have fallen to his knees and kissed him again, but that was what he’d done all the time since they’d arrived in Paris and it meant that they would kiss and kiss until kisses weren’t enough anymore and that was somewhat beside the point of their honeymoon travels.

“It’s a marvelous sight,” Charles whispered. He was still looking down at the Seine and the tower.

That tower was sure something, Erik thought. Whenever he had been to Paris before, he had stood below it and watched it, just watched it for a while and enjoyed the way its mere presence made his sense of metal tingle. This was nothing like the feelings he had when he looked into Charles’ sapphire blue eyes, but it was almost equally as strong as that feeling. The reinforced concrete highrises of New York were nothing in comparison to the magnificence of a naked steel tower.

Sometimes, he had fantasized about being able to move it, maybe lift it up into the air or bend the tip down towards the ground or maybe just let it parade up and down the Champ de Mars. Back then, of course, he hadn’t possessed the abilities to do so, even though he would have loved to try. His abilities now that he had Charles by his side were an entirely different story.

Erik smiled. “It’s almost perfect,” he said without taking his eyes of the tower. It was past closing time and there weren’t any people up there anymore. Everyone around was just watching the illumination of the tower. Erik lifted his right hand up and extended his hand towards the tower.

“Erik, what are you doing?” Charles asked, sudden alert painting his voice.

“Wait a few moments and I’ll show you,” Erik replied, as the tower slowly rose from its pedestals and up towards the sky.

“Erik!” Charles hissed. “There might be people in there, put it down!”

“Well, are there?” Erik asked with a grin because he had felt for people in there and hadn’t found a sign of anyone.

“No, but I think you really should put it down again,” Charles reluctantly admitted. “Don’t you think people will notice that it’s missing?”

Erik’s laugh earned him a smack to his thighs. “I didn’t plan on stealing it,” Erik reassured him. The tower was now gently spinning in the air. “Look at that craftsmanship,” Erik whispered in awe as the let the tower dip to the side and let them look at it in yet another angle. It started getting harder to hold all the weight in the air, but with Charles by his side, nothing was beyond his abilities.

The tower hung now upside in the air, a little closer to them, above the Seine. It was spinning gently and slowly, so one could see it all of it in this unusual perspective. If Erik had deigned to pay attention to his surroundings, he would have heard the uproar his actions were causing. People were staring at the flying Eiffel Tower and babbling nervously all around them. A lot of people, though, were simply gaping at it.

Erik tore his gaze away from the tower, though he still held it in the air and let it gently drift towards its pedestals again. He turned and took the two steps so he was standing in front of Charles and could kneel down in front of him, taking one of Charles’ hands between his and kissing it, knuckle by knuckle.

“Charles, I just… you made a better man out of me, all these things I’m able to do now are thanks to you, to what you make me feel,” he whispered against their joint hands. He could feel Charles was watching him now instead of the tower, that spun once again until it was upside up again. “With you, nothing seems impossible to me, Charles. I love you.”

As Erik looked up after his last words, he found Charles’ eyes awaiting his gaze. The kiss that followed made him temporarily forget about the tower which could be heard by anyone around but them as it was dropped by Erik and missed the pedestals by several meters. But Erik couldn’t care about this now, not with Charles’ eager tongue licking its way into his mouth.

When they finally pulled apart, the Champ de Mars was illuminated by blue and red flashing lights. The howl of sirens accompanied the scenery. But Charles and Erik didn’t pay that much heed as they made their way to the street and called themselves a cab.

–

“Promise me one thing,” Charles chuckled as they were lying in their hotel bed, Erik’s arms wrapped around him and his head resting on his husband’s chest. “Never do that again after tomorrow!”

“Why after tomorrow and not from today?” Erik wondered, starting to weave his fingers through Charles’ hair.

“Because,” Charles said, looking Erik straight into the eyes. “You will put it back properly first thing in the morning or so help me.”


	8. What are you watching?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles comes home to find his husband and their daughter in front of a laptop, watching some kid's program Charles can't understand and has never seen before. He assumes it's German but he can't be sure and his daughter wouldn't let him ask any more questions, because, Daddy, I can't understand what the narrator's saying if you keep on talking.
> 
> Domestic little piece of fluff and confusion.

Erik and their daughter were in the living room, watching something on Erik’s computer when Charles came home from work. At first, he thought it was some German kid’s programme, but then he could hear an other language that sounded more like Russian.

"What are you watching?" he asked as he entered the living room.

“[Maus](http://www.wdrmaus.de/),” giggled their daughter happily.

"Mouse?" Charles repeated, looking at the screen. The language now spoken was definitely German from what little he understood but there was no mouse to be seen anywhere. Instead there were gleaming machines, bending and twisting wires and cutting them in smaller pieces and the like. He rested his chin on Erik’s shoulder and whispered, "What are you watching?"

"The Maus, just like she said," Erik answered, planting a kiss on Charles’ cheek.

"This looks more like the stuff you watch when you need to relax from a stressful day. All that metal," Charles chuckled. "What is it about?"

"About how they make…" Erik started but then they were shushed by their fascinated three year old. "I can’t hear what Armin’s saying!" she complained.

Charles watched the screen with growing fascination. In the following five minutes, the wires were welded and one step after another became a trolley. When that segment was over, a little cartoon elephant appeared on the screen, honking and blinking. He still had no idea why his husband and daughter both had called that show “mouse”. The following segment which consisted of a song accompanied by another cartoon gave him no explanation either.

But then, in the short clip after wards, with the same brown background as the one with the elephant before, there appeared a mouse on the screen. Or at least Charles assumed that it was a mouse. It had an orange body and was walking on two legs which were of a slightly darker brown as the background, just like its ears. In the clip, it was raining and the mouse clearly wasn’t happy with that, the way it wrinkled its nose a telling indication. But it had an idea and started to rummage in the pouch on his belly—why did it have something like that?—and pulled out a piece of coal and drew an umbrella without a handle in the air. Using its tail that it had just unplugged as a handle, it marched happily with its new umbrella through the rain.

Charles blinked.

The segment after that was starring a middle aged man in a green sweater looking around a meadow and apparently the female voice explained something about the plants there Charles couldn’t quite understand.

After another one of the clips with the mouse and the elephant and some old bear in sailor clothes with his three up to no good little bears in different colours, a younger man with brown hair and glasses appeared on screen to announce “Aus die Maus.” and then going on about something which might probably be about next weeks programme.

"Huh," Charles said after it was done and the screen was back to black and blue again. "What was that?"

Erik smiled at him. “You said I should watch some German TV with her once in a while so she hears the language from someone else than me,” he explained. “So I thought it might be a good idea to show her the most famous show at first and then see what else she likes. Besides,” he chuckled. “I like watching that show myself.”

"Oh really? Aren’t you a bit old for some kid’s programme?" Charles teased.

Erik grinned at him. “Actually, I’m younger than the average watcher. As far as I know, the average for this show is somewhere between 45 and 50 years old.”

"What?" Charles gasped. "Then why is it called a kid’s show?"

Erik laughed again. “Because that’s the average between small children and their grandparents who are watching it with them.” He kissed Charles’ cheek. “Want to watch it with us next week? I’m sure she will like that as well.”

Charles sighed. “How could I say no to any of you two?” But he was smiling as he said it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the bit about what happens in the show from memory, which means that there won't be an episode a hundred percent like what I described. But I guess it's fairly close. Haven't seen it in about half a year, maybe more.


	9. The one in which Erik mutters in German under his breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this post](http://czarnyma.tumblr.com/post/75679938051/spicedpiano-sherrocked-headcanon-that-erik) over on tumblr.

Charles liked watching Erik prepare dinner. It was always so comfortable with Erik moving around the kitchen like he belonged there and no where else—which Charles did doubt since he still wanted to see if Erik wouldn’t look even more natural in his bed. They had been friends for long enough to be perfectly comfortable but you could never be friends long enough that it wouldn’t be awkward to propose anything like that. So Charles confined himself to being friends with Erik and ignoring the little flutters his heart occasionally did around him.

Like right now. He always liked Erik’s voice, he’d liked it even before they had become friends back In their freshman year in college. But he liked even more like this, when Erik was muttering under his breath in German. Charles had no idea if Erik knew about this little quirk of his. But if he didn’t Charles didn’t want to bring it to his attention in case that would bring Erik to stop.

“Wo ist diese verdammte Schüssel?” Erik muttered as he went through the cupboards of Charles’ kitchen. Charles remembered enough from the German classes he’d had in high school that Erik was searching for a bowl. He’d never come around to tell Erik that he understood quite a bit of it and by now there wasn’t a point in telling Erik anymore, was it? Erik never said anything important like that anyway.

Right now, Erik was simply cursing lowly as he prepared dinner. Charles enjoyed this kind of background buzz. He could listen to Erik like this forever, if he didn’t listen too closely and tried to understand everything Erik said. He had never been good enough in German to not having to focus to understand what was being said. At least, Erik never slipped into dialect. Those were impossible to understand in Charles’ opinion.

“Could you bring me the cheese, Charles?” Erik interrupted his trail of thought. Charles got up from his place at the table and walked over to the fridge. “Where did you put it?” Charles asked as he rummaged through the fridge. He even bend over a little bit in the vain attempt to show off his backside to Erik.

When he didn’t get an answer and was just about to repeat his question because maybe Erik hadn’t heard him over the sizzling of meat in the pan, he heard Erik mutter, “…Arsch. Was tust du mir nur an?” Charles raised an eyebrow. Either Erik had just insulted him or he was really enjoying the view. Probably the latter. For good measure, Charles moved his hips a bit more while he went on searching for the cheese he had already found. A sharp intake of breath told him that he had been right.

“Scheiße,” Erik cursed. “Ich wünschte, ich könnte dich einfach hier und jetzt nehmen.” Charles tried, he really tried to suppress a needy whine. But the idea of being taken by Erik here and now was too much. He straightened and turned around, the fridge slamming shut with too much momentum as he lunged himself at Erik. Why hadn’t they never talked about this before? Why hadn’t they  _done_  that before?

Erik looked perplexed as Charles kissed him but that only lasted about a second before he started to kiss him back, his hands roaming over Charles’ back. Charles grabbed fistfuls of Erik’s shirt, tugging at it and trying to get rid of it as soon as possible. He couldn’t believe that Erik wanted him just as much and they had never done something like this before, not even kissed. If Charles had known about Erik’s feelings for him, he would have said something ages ago.

Afterward, as they lay on the tiled kitchen floor, sated and blissfully drowsy, Erik asked, “What did just happen?” He had his arm around Charles who had snuggled up against his chest. They would have to get up soon, the tiles weren’t getting warmer, but for now Charles felt much too lazy to get up.

“We had sex,” Charles replied sleepily.

“I know,” Erik growled but it didn’t sound hostile. “I meant before that. The part when you suddenly jumped me.”

“You mean that one after you told me you wanted to take me?” Charles yawned. He stretched up to kiss Erik’s cheek. “I’m glad you did, by the way.”

“I did?” Erik repeated. “I can’t remember ever saying something like this out loud.”

“You mutter in German under your breath all the time,” Charles chuckled. At Erik’s raised eyebrow, he added, “You know, I took German in high school. I understand about half of what you’re talking when you mutter like that. And most of it are just curses anyway.”

“You… what? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Erik asked, looking at Charles in wonder. Charles couldn’t resist kissing him again.

“If I had, this would probably never have happened,” Charles whispered against Erik’s lips after they parted. “Ich liebe dich, Erik.”

“Ich dich auch, Charles, ich dich auch, so sehr,” Erik replied smiling and putting a little more emphasis at his “ch”s than usual. Charles was tempted to smack him for mocking him but instead he rolled onto Erik and pulled him into a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations in case anyone needs them:
> 
> Ich liebe dich, Erik. - I love you, Erik.
> 
> Ich dich auch, Charles, ich dich auch, so sehr. - I love you too, Charles, love you too, so much. (or something like that)


	10. The one with the vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vampire AU  
> Vampire!Charles drinks the blood of his human!boyfriend Erik for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Widge](http://archiveofourown.org/users/widgenstain).  
> Inspired by [this](http://widgenstain.tumblr.com/post/78094594054/mrkinch-justasimplestalker-just-take-my)

"You're sure this is all right with you?" Charles asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

Erik ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't help feeling nervous about this whole situation. He'd never asked for this when he had begun to date Charles. His hands felt sweaty. He tried to rub them dry on his slacks but it didn't help much.

"Of course I am," Erik sighed. "How would I not be? I want you to do this, Charles. I trust you, Schatz."

He brushed back the sleeve of his turtle neck to bare his lower arm. Charles took his arm, his fingers cold against Erik's skin. He always felt much too cold. Erik covered his eyes with his free arm. He took a deep breath.

"Ready whenever you are," he sighed. His heart beat so fast he had no doubt Charles wouldn't have any trouble drinking as much as he wanted to. "Just promise me that I won't bleed to death." He bit his lower lip for adding that. He was sure if he had had the strength to look at Charles right now, his lover would have looked hurt.

Luckily, Charles didn't say anything to that. Instead, he kissed Erik's pulse, cold lips against heated skin. The touch tingled, not unpleasantly, but not entirely comfortable either. "I promise you to be careful, Erik," Charles whispered. His breath ghosted over Erik's skin and caused him to shiver a little. "Trust me."

"Always," Erik sighed.

He could feel sharp teeth breaching his skin. He forced himself to remain calm. His hands still clenched to fists. But it felt eerily good. He was even starting to feel a little light headed. And Charles lips seemed to grow warmer with every gulp of blood.

Erik had no idea how much time had passed when Charles gently pulled his arm away from his eyes. "Darling, are you alright?" Charles asked. He sounded genuinely concerned, even to Erik's fuzzy mind. "Talk to me, my dear."

Erik leaned against Charles' chest. Sitting up was exhausting. "I'm fine, don't worry," he murmured against Charles' chest. "I just need a moment or two."

Charles' arms wrapped around him and held him close. "Any time you need, dear," he said. He gently petted Erik's hair. "I love you so much."

"Me too," Erik murmured. He'd really like to go to sleep any time soon. He still raised his head when Charles put a hand below his chin to make him look up. Their lips met in a sweet kiss.

"You have no idea how much this means to me," Charles whispered against Erik's lips.

Erik might have disagreed. He could still taste himself on Charles' lips.

 


	11. The one with the chance meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [jincelove](http://jincelove.tumblr.com/)  
> Somewhat inspired by the first 30min of 万有引力 (I haven't seen more than that, we watched it in class and then discussed it)

Charles was in a hurry. He had overslept. He could have gone without coffee and wouldn't have needed to hurry, but that would mean going without coffee. He'd rather rush through the crowds of people all on their own way to work than go without coffee.

He almost stumbled as he ran down the stairs to the subway. He cursed. Luckily, he didn't fall and regained his footing quickly. He reached the tube right in time to catch it. That meant he had just enough time to go to his favorite cafe and grab a coffee before he'd have to head to class.

His shoulder brushed against the arm of somebody else as he rushed towards campus. He looked up and for a moment, their eyes met. For a heartbeat, Charles forgot how to breath. He'd never seen eyes like that, light gray with a thin dark blue circle around the edges. For the fraction of a second, Charles' mind brushed against that of the stranger.

They both stopped and turned around.

“Uhm,” Charles said. He had the feeling he should be saying something more intelligent, but this was all he could think of.

“Er,” the man offered helpfully.

“...hi?” Charles said. “Have I seen you before?”

That made the man chuckle. “Only every morning for the past half a year,” he said. “But you're late today. I mean, later than usual.”

“Excuse me?” Charles asked. “What was that? How do you know that?”

The man blushed faintly. “I noticed you,” he admitted.

“When?” Charles asked. By this point, he had completely forgotten about the coffee. He would have to face his class without that now. This handsome stranger was more important.

“Every morning?”

“But when did you start to?” Charles took a small step towards the man.

The man cleared his throat. “As I said, half a year ago,” he said. “You, er, you dropped your books. I helped you pick them up?”

“Oh.” Now it was Charles turn to blush. He remembered the day. He had been in a hurry just like today. He hadn't paid any attention and he had bumped into somebody. His books had slipped out of his grip and had been all over the ground. Someone had helped him pick them up. He couldn't remember if it had been this handsome stranger.

The man's shoulders dropped. “You don't remember, do you?”

“Of course I do,” Charles said quickly. Thinking back, he did remember seeing this man's face in the crowd almost every day. He had started paying attention to him when he had noticed him yelling at someone on his cell phone. After that, he had been looking for the familiar face every morning. He had worried the week before, when he hadn't seen him on any morning.

“Have you been sick last week?” Charles blurted out.

The man smiled at him. “I've been out of town for the week,” he said. “Thanks for noticing. This makes this whole situation a lot less weird to me.”

Charles hadn't even noticed him stepping up to him. He didn't mind. Actually, he even liked it. He could get used to that. “My name's Charles,” he offered. He'd rather just kissed that man.

His heart stopped when the man did just that.

“I'm sorry,” the man chuckled after they pulled apart again. “I didn't know you were a telepath. You were projecting rather loudly.” Charles thought his legs would just stop working. He gripped for something to hold on. The stranger offered his arm to him.

“I'm Erik. Nice to finally get to know you, Charles. How about we get lunch together sometime soon?”

“Of course. I'd love to.”

This time, as Erik kissed him again, Charles had the presence of mind to open his mouth to allow Erik's tongue inside his mouth.


	12. The one with the hot running dads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David is pleased with himself that he got his dad to join the charity race his school's organizing. But he should have known he couldn't let his dad out of his sight. Because the minute he does, things develop in a direction that will haunt all of his nightmares for months. And, seriously, Mr Lehnsherr of all people? David really hopes taste in people can't be inherited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the ["hot dad running" post](http://kageillusionz.tumblr.com/post/78561050943/thefrankensteinmonster-urbansexuals)
> 
> David’s pov, so no discussion of Erik’s hotness, sorry.
> 
> So I guess this is for [kageillusionz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kageillusionz) who I saw yell “cherik it” and [aesc](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aesc) whose prompt I sorta mostly followed.

David was very pleased with himself that he had managed to talk his dad into joining the charity run at his school. Not that it had been hard to do, since his dad liked running anyway and liked helping people even more. However, David’s motivation in asking his dad to join had been something else entirely and he was very glad that his dad hadn’t come onto him, yet.

It could have been a nice Saturday around the school’s racetrack. Running a few laps and then give up to sit somewhere in the shade and watch the adults and anyone who felt more competitive than the average teenager go on. That was what David had imagined first when the teacher had announced it. However, later at lunch his nemesis Pietro had dared to open his mouth and brag about how his dad would outrun everyone else. Of course David hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut at that and one thing had led to another. In the end, there was a bet going on between them about whose dad would run the farthest at the charity run.

 

Asking his dad to join had forced David to run more than the two laps as he had planned to, even if it was just because his dad wasn’t playing fair and using that hurt puppy thing with his eyes whenever David even thought about quitting. So far, his dad had guilt-tripped him into running an additional four rounds and David was almost at his limit. His only consolation was that his nemesis Pietro and his evil witch of a sister Wanda suffered the same faith as him. He even could laugh about it, at least silently in his mind—he hadn’t enough breath left to do so out loud—because he was running right behind them and their dad, keeping pace with them because his own dad did. David had no idea why he would even want to do that, but glancing at his dad from time to time he caught him smiling.

David was glad when his dad finally let him quit. At that point, David was close to cursing himself for even consider asking his dad to join this charity run. He was convinced his legs would ache for weeks. Pietro was released just at the same time and neither of them had even enough energy left to do more than lightly shove each other.

David sat down in the shade and watched his dad run a few more laps. He didn’t think much of it when his dad ran a little faster to catch up with Mr Lehnsherr, Pietro’s dad, but to his horror, his dad fell into step with Mr Lehnsherr as soon as he was next to him. There wasn’t even much space between them. They were almost close enough for his dad’s shoulder to brush against Mr Lehnsherr’s arm, David noticed with horror. That didn’t change until the coach in charge declared the run over.

Then, things went the way they’d always went, which was even further downhill. David was sure his jaw dropped as he watched his dad pat Mr Lehnsherr’s shoulder and they exchanged some words, both smiling. Judging by the look of sheer horror on Pietro’s and Wanda’s faces, they were feeling just the same cold horror. It didn’t help to console David at all. His dad couldn’t get along with Mr Lehnsherr. His son was the braggy spawn of Satan, which in turn made Mr Lehnsherr Satan himself. David was convinced ever since Mr Lehnsherr had smiled him at some elementary school activity that he ate puppies. And most likely puppy-eyed short men with wavy brown hair.

Which was why, as soon as it was possible, got to his dad and steered him away from Lehnsherr. It was bad enough that they looked like they had had some fun, he didn’t need them to become friends. That would be horrible. Worse than that. It could mean he would have to see Pietro outside of school.

They sat down on one of the picnic benches other parents had put up while the last few had still been running. David didn’t even have the time to ask his dad if he should go get him something to drink, because just a moment later someone tapped his dad’s shoulder and offered him a cup of tea. David didn’t even have to turn to see that it was Mr Lehnsherr, his twins in tow.

“Oh, thank you,” David could hear his dad say—in a tone that indicated that he was smiling—just as he himself was mouthing “What the fuck is going on here?” at Pietro behind their fathers’ backs.

Pietro shrugged, just as Mr Lehnsherr invited himself to stay at their table. Pietro and Wanda followed suit when glared at. “That was nice,” Mr Lehnsherr said after a while. “Running like that.” He shrugged. David rolled his eyes, just to catch Pietro doing just the same.

“Yes, it was,” David’s dad answered. David had to hide his face in his hands so no one could see his desperation at the besotted look on his dad’s face.

“We should do this again sometime soon,” Lehnsherr said, slowly dragging a finger over the rim of his own tea cup. “When do you usual run?”

So, David wasn’t the only one who hoped for the earth to open up and to be swallowed whole.

“Every morning before work.” If that noise his dad just had made wasn’t a purr, David could just go ahead and ask Wanda out for not even that would make this situation less awkward.

“Do you usually run alone?” Lehnsherr asked. He couldn’t even take his eyes of David’s dad. It was gross. “Or does your wife join you?” Smooth, Lehnsherr, David thought as he banged his head against the table in the vain hope to kill enough brain cells to cause amnesia.

“My ex-wife moved to Israel a few years ago,” David’s dad smiled. If he’d drop dead now, David wondered, would his dad even notice? He looked positively lost inside Lehnsherr’s cool gray eyes.

“So you’re a single dad as well?” Lehnsherr’s face lit up. It looked so creepy it made David’s skin crawl. Didn’t his dad see that this could only mean that Lehnsherr was contemplating using him in a ritual to summon Cthulhu or something like that.

David shot his nemesis and his nemesis’ evil female clone a pleading look asking them to make their dad stop only to find the look mirrored in their eyes. There was a silent agreement never to talk about this ever, assuming they would survive this.

David had missed the last bit of what their dad’s were saying, too busy to pray to any god he knew for being struck by lightning right here and now. But when he heard his dad saying something that sounded suspiciously like “Well, then it’s a date.”

“If I promise to do the same, would you kill me?” David asked Pietro.


	13. The one in the coffee shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is waiting for a date in the coffee shop where Erik works. When the date fails to show up, Erik takes the chance and starts to hit on the hot patron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ups, I seem to have forgotten to post this one here. I think?

The boy had caught Erik's eye before he'd even sat down. With even more efficiency than usual, he finished taking the order of the annoying couple who changed their order three times and Erik had no idea how he managed to get them to decided and still remain polite. As fast as he could, he got the order back to the counter and then hurried as fast as he could without looking like he was really rushing to the brown haired boy.

“What can I get you?” Erik asked, pulling his notepad out of the pocket of his white apron. He was glad they were making him wear clothes that flattered him. All the more leverage to woo cute customers.

The customer put down the menu and blinked at Erik. “Sorry, can I order later? I'm waiting for someone,” he said, his slightly wet, bright red lips twitching into a smile. “He should be here in about ten minutes, I'm a wee little bit early.” The boy ran his hand through his hair and smiled at Erik once more.

Erik nodded curtly. Like he could deny this boy anything if he looked at him like this. He suspected the boy knew of the effect he had on other people. “Meeting a friend?”

The boy shook his head. “Having a date, actually,” he said, lowering his gaze for a moment, before looking up at Erik through his eyelashes. Needless to say, this did something funny to Erik's guts. Erik just hoped he wasn't blushing. “My sister set us up and I have no idea who it is.” The young man laughed.

Erik swallowed dry. “Well, I'll be back later to take your orders when your,” he sighed. “ _Date_ is here.”

“That would be lovely,” the young man smiled. “Thank you.”

With a sigh, Erik left the boy to wait for his date. Too bad he hadn't come here to study or read a book or simply have a coffee and some cake. If he hadn't been waiting for a date, Erik would have tried to flirt with the young man. They rarely had customers this lovely or this much Erik's type.

Absentmindedly, Erik jotted down the orders of some teenagers and then went back to the counter to get the order of the annoying couple. The afternoon was rather busy which was not bad and there were a lot of couples there so the tips were generous which was in Erik's opinion the pretty much best thing there was to his work. It even made up for most of the couples being annoyingly in love and displaying that without any shame or sympathy for all those poor single sods like Erik himself.

When he checked on the boy about twenty minutes later, he was still alone on his table. Because he'd just a few moments break between taking orders and bringing coffee, cake, ice and whatnot to the customers, he went over to the young man. “Still not ready to order yet?” Erik asked, trying not to smile at the man because his co-worker Raven had told him he would sent people into a stampede if he ever did smile again.

The young man shrugged. “I'm still alone, so, yes, I'd wait just a little longer,” he said, smiling.

“Sure you don't want a coffee?” Erik asked again. He had to try. “I'm sure your date won't mind. She's late already after all.”

“He is,” the boy corrected. Erik raised an eyebrow. So this gorgeous young man was gay. Good to know. “And my sister warned me about this. He seems to forget time when he's working.”

Erik let out a sigh. “Fine,” he said. “Call me if you change your mind.”

“I will,” the young man promised with a smile.

Work was getting slower after that. Most of the teenagers had left and the couples were all taken care of. So all Erik had to do was collect people's money and refill cups from time to time. More time for him to look at the boy who was still waiting. He looked more and more insecure and miserable. One time, Erik caught him reading a message and see his face fall.

That was when Erik decided to take the initiative. So he went to the counter and asked Raven to prepare him a coffee. She raised an eyebrow at him, but did as he asked anyway. He was sure she would question him about this later. He just hoped he would then be able to tell her he scored a date or the like thanks to the magic of her coffee.

“Here you go,” Erik said as he placed the cup in front of the young man. The latter had taken a book out of his bad and was reading. A quick glance at the cover told Erik that it was about some advanced genetics. When the young man looked up and opened his mouth to protest, Erik quickly added, “It's on the house.”

The young man closed his book and sighed. “Thank you,” he said, a sad smile pulling one corner of his mouth up. “I'm sorry I wasted your time until now. I'll pay for the coffee.”

Erik shook his head. “The coffee's on me. Can't take money from someone who had been stood up.”

'You don't think he might still come?” the boy sighed. He ran his hand again through his hair. “I suppose you're right. He should have been here an hour ago. He might just have forgotten about it.” The beautiful red lips pressed to a thin line.

“He's an idiot, if you ask me,” Erik grumbled. “He's no idea what he's missing.”

The young man smiled at him. “Thanks,” he said. “For the coffee, I mean.” He blushed. “And for the compliment,” he added a little lower.

Erik would have liked to compliment the young man further, enough to get his name and his number at least. However, Raven had other plans for him. They had just gotten some more guests, business man and women stopping by for a quick cup of coffee before heading home. It took him some time to collect all the orders and he was too busy to even spare the young man a glance for several minutes. By the time he had taken care of all the new patrons, the table where the young man had been seated was empty.

Erik's heart sank. But the table was his duty to clean and so he went there to collect the empty cup. Under it, he found the money for the coffee and a generous tip. His heart sank further. So he hadn't even accepted the coffee on the house. Erik sighed. And then, he knit his brows together as he noticed the napkin, neatly tugged under the cup with the money. On the napkin was a note in a very neat handwriting.

“ _How about dinner next time? Charles”_ the note read. Erik couldn't help but grin to himself. Under the note, there even was a number which he quickly entered into his cell's address book. He should go and thank Raven for the coffee. But on the other hand... maybe it would be even better to get his work done as fast as possible to head home and call Charles. Yes, that seemed like a much better option.

 


	14. The one where Charles is Han Solo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [Gerec's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec) prompt:
> 
> "How about a little Cherik Star Wars stylz? Maybe something like the Han/Leia scene 'You like me because I'm a scoundrel.'"
> 
> How could I ever say no to Star Wars?

Prince Erik was cursing under his breath as he pushed the energy modules back into place. Why couldn't Captain Xavier repair his damn ship. Or, yet a better idea, why couldn't he just put this one junk where this scrap belonged.  He cursed a little louder when the damn thing got struck.

He hadn't heard the footsteps approaching him. But he refused to be startled when there were suddenly two hands covering his. With Captain Xavier's help, he managed to push the module back where it belonged. As soon as that was done, Erik batted Xavier's hands away. He glared at the man.

“Hey, Your Wrathfulness, I'm only trying to help,” Xavier chuckled. Erik hated it when he let his trail his much too blue eyes over his body like this. It made him feel like he was being appraised. But glaring harder at him only made Xavier laugh outright at him and raise his hands in defence.

“Would you stop calling me that?” Erik snapped. He hated it when Xavier's teasing actually worked on him. It made him want to slam the man against the nearest wall and—and then what? Erik was not sure if he wanted to answer that for himself.

Xavier grinned at him entirely too much like he knew exactly what was going on  with Erik. “Sure, Erik,” he said, shoving his hands down his pockets.

Erik rolled his eyes. “You make it so difficult sometimes.” He failed not to huff. How could one man be this irritating? Erik really wanted to slam him up a wall so bad. It was so very difficult not to do so when Xavier acted like that.

“I do, I really do,” Xavier grinned at him. Not that it helped Erik much to finally know for sure he was doing all this on purpose. “You could be a little nice though,” Xavier went on, rocking a little back and forth on his feet. “Come on,” he teased. “Admit it. Sometimes you think I'm alright.”

Erik frowned. He thought Captain Charles Xavier to be many thinks, ruthless, cheeky, unnerving, a little bit hot and perhaps even the tiniest bit of handsome, but alright sure wasn't on that list. Okay, there were times he could and would tollerate the man's presence. If he had to.

On the other hand, admitting that he was alright was by far easier than to admit all the other things he was thinking about Xavier. “Occasionally, maybe...” Erik said with great reluctance. “When you're not acting like a scoundrel,” he added, so he wouldn't sound to soft. He had thought that Charles Xavier was a scoundrel and many more things, none of them very flattering, for a long time. Only the man's charm, that served so well in hiding the worse parts of his character, had prevented him from voicing any of those names before. Well, most of them, at least. Okay, fine, from voicing the worst of the names he wanted to call the Captain.

“Scoundrel?” Xavier chuckled. “Scoundrel? I like the sound of that.” He beamed. But his smile quickly became sheepish as he reached out for Erik's hand.

Erik drew a shaky breath. Why did every one of Xavier's touch do this to him. Why had he to be afraid his knees would turn into jelly here and now, just because a man he didn't even like—that much—had started to massage his hand.

“Stop that,” Erik breathed.

“Stop what?” Charles breathed back. His blue eyes were wide and almost innocent enough to make Erik believe it. Only it was a bit too much of a show from a man who could drive him mad and halfway across the ceiling in a matter of seconds.

“Stop that,” Erik said yet again, this time, however, his voice betrayed his true feelings. “My hands are dirty.” He was desperate for an excuse to pull his hand out of Xavier's soft, warm grip. If this would go on for much longer... Erik wasn't sure what would happen then.

“My hands are dirty, too,” Xavier smoothed over his protests. His eyelids fluttered a little. “What are you afraid of?” he said softly, leaning in on Erik. They were now so close he could smell his woody aftershave. Only barely could Erik keep himself from closing the last bit of space between them and bury his hand in the soft brown mop on the Captain's head.

“Afraid?” Erik asked. He grinned. Every other person would have been terrified by that. But not Captain Xavier.

“You're trembling,” he noted. His swift, clever things were tracing little circles over the rough, newly calloused skin of his hand. It made the hair on Erik's arm stand on edge.

“I'm _not_ trembling,” Erik muttered.

Xavier choose to ignore him. Instead, he bowed a little, to make it easier to bring the tips of Erik's fingers to his lips and kiss them, slowly and one by one.

“You like me because I'm a scoundrel.” A sheepish smile tugged at the corners of Xavier's lips when he looked back up at Erik, through his lashes—of course that bastard would—for the added effect, Erik was sure. “There aren't enough scoundrels in your life.” What might have come out astonished if coming from any other man sounded very smug coming out of Captain Xavier's mouth.

It wasn't like the hadn't both known this for a while now. Handsome, plain, polite, nice men, Erik could have all he wanted and more. If he'd ever felt so inclined. And yet he had fallen for somebody so infuriating, so  perfect , so annoying as Charles. Not even this wrack he called a ship or his awful, hairy best friend could keep Erik from admitting that.

However, like hell he would give the man the satisfaction of voicing his attraction.  He'd rather face Darth Smid in nothing but a loincloth.

“I happen to like nice men,” he therefore insisted.

Xavier laughed, soft and melodious and oh so very charming. “I am nice men.”

Erik huffed. “No, you're not, you're...” He hadn't even noticed that they had both leaned forward and closed the last bit of space between them until their lips met.

It was a glorious moment. Finally, finally, they were kissing. Erik had wanted this so long, maybe ever since he had laid eyes on this incredible, gorgeous, infuriating man. Now that they were finally kissing, he could admit that it this attraction could only be called-

“Captain Xavier,” Hank came in babbling and looking at Charles. “We might have found out what's wrong with...”

Two glares directed at him at once made his voice die in his throat. But Erik has had enough. When Charles had pulled away upon being caught like this—it hadn't been much, a few inches at most, but it had been enough. Erik stepped away from him. He was aware that Hank and Charles were talking about something urgent. But he couldn't care. All he wanted was to run from this and think.

Think about what this man had come to mean to him.

With determined, quick strides he left the room, before Charles could hold him back.


	15. The one in which a human asks a vampire out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How [vampire!Charles and his human boyfriend Erik](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1065271/chapters/2576893) came to have their first date. Oh, and how they met, of course. With lots of fighting, a little blushing and temporary insanity.

Erik woke to the sound of his window being opened. He was sure he had locked it before he had gone to bed, but there was no mistaking that sound. He wondered if it was too late to jump out of bed and grab something, anything he could use as a weapon.

Before he had reached any decision on the topic, the sound stopped and was replaced by the rustling of fabric. He couldn't hear any breath but his own, which was odd. There was someone breaking into his bedroom through the window on the sixth floor, a window, nonetheless that wasn't accessible from the fire escape.

He tensed and carefully turned in his head. There was a heavy, hardcover book on his nightstand. He could use it as a weapon. He opened one eye. He could see a pair of shoes coming closer, stepping up to his head. It were nice shoes, Erik noticed. He could still be half asleep if he cared for that. When the intruder came to a stop, Erik held his breath for a moment.

When nothing happened, he started to grow uncomfortable. Then there was the sound, an intaking of breath, as if the intruder was sniffing. That was about it for Erik. He grabbed the book and smashed it against what he hoped was the intruder's head. He didn't waste a moment to jump out of bed and to the door, ready to run for the kitchen to find himself a better weapon.

He still took a minute to stare at the intruder, who was hunched over holding his nose beside Erik's bed. He was somewhat smaller than Erik had thought. And much nicer dressed in his dress pants and dark coat. In the insufficient lighting, he couldn't make out any colors but he'd guess the intruder had dark hair.

Against every instinct, Erik hissed, “What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?”

“I thought you were asleep,” the man groaned. His voice sounded much younger than Erik would have guessed as well.

“That doesn't answer my question,” Erik growled. “Get out of here right now, before I call the police!”

The guy straightened a little. “Seriously, this is not how I planned this to go.” Erik was almost certain that the intruder was now glaring at him. “You should have been fast asleep!”

“So you could do what?” Erik was inching backwards now, closer to the telephone and the solid iron reading lamp next to the couch. One leap and he would have it ready to smash the intruder's skull with it.

“Drink your blood?” the intruder murmured. He even made it a question so Erik knew he must know how ridiculous this sounded.

“Okay, I'm calling the police,” Erik decided. He took the few steps to where his cell phone was sitting on the kitchen counter and reached for it behind his back. “You're insane.”

In the flash of a moment, the intruder jumped over the bed and ran to Erik. All Erik could do before he was thrown to the ground was raise his arms to protect his face, and hopefully enough his neck as well. He'd never thought there really would be vampires outside of one kind or another of bloody stupid romantic stories.

“I'm afraid I can't let you do that,” the intruder whispered. “So if you would just stop struggling and just let me...” A very cold hand grabbed Erik's wrist and pulled it carefully away from Erik's face. It was surprisingly strong, not that Erik was surprised anymore. He was terrified.

And terrified never failed to make Erik angrier than anything.

With all his strength, he punched the intruder—Erik still couldn't believe it was a vampire—with his free left hand. He hit his nose and heard a very satisfying crack. It did not enough to get the intruder off him but it was a start.

The vampire growled lowly in his throat. “Stop fighting,” he hissed. “If you wouldn't fight back, I would be done with you by now.”

“If I didn't fight,” Erik hissed back. “I would be dead. Go find somebody else to drain of his blood!”

“I wouldn't kill you,” the vampire whined. It sounded almost desperate. “I'm just so hungry. Please, only a little. Half a liter. That would be enough and not enough to kill you. Please...”

“Get off me!” Erik shoved against the vampire's chest. Surprisingly, this was enough to push him off this time. Erik used the short moment of confusion to get back up on his feet and behind the kitchen counter, reaching for the longest knife in the knife-block. He held it in front of his body, ready to defend himself.

The vampire stared up at him for a second, before he seemed to reach a decision. He sighed, got to his feet as well and brushed imaginary dust off his trousers. With a last wistful look, he turned around and walked back into Erik's bedroom, where he must have climbed out of the window because when Erik later returned to the room, armed with the knife and a bottle of whiskey to soothe his nerves, he was nowhere to be found.

Erik wished back than that he would have seen the last of that vampire.

–

It wasn't, however. Two nights later, Erik was woken by a faint knock at his window. He sat up in his bed, read to reach for the knife he was now keeping at his nightstand—he had yet to find the time to get himself a proper stake and just hated the idea of keeping garlic right next to his bed. But instead of opening the window, the vampire knocked again. Erik cursed.

Then he cursed some more, most of those directed at his own stupidity, as he raised his voice to call out to the vampire, “Come in, I know I don't have to bother getting up, you can let yourself in.”

“I'm sorry for my behavior the last time we...met,” the vampire said when he was standing in the middle of Erik's bedroom. Erik had turned on the light on his nightstand and was secretly admiring the vampire's body. He looked almost...cute, if it weren't for the whole blood drinking thing.

“Go on,” Erik said when he had realized that the vampire was apparently done talking without really saying anything.

“With what?” The vampire blinked.

“Well, you being sorry for your behavior can't be the only thing that brings you here, can it?” Erik crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I wanted to at least know why you picked me. Coincidence? Are you stupid? Or do you just not like easy targets?”

The vampire shrugged at that. “Your blood smells nice,” he said.

Erik couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. “My blood...?” He sighed. “Okay, that sounds just as insane as anything.” Still, he appreciated the vampire being honest. And while they were at it... it was weird to call him the vampire all the time. “What's your name?”

“I'm...” The vampire hesitated for a moment. “You can call me Charles, I guess, that's what my family does, anyway.”

“Good evening, Charles, I'm Erik,” Erik couldn't stop himself from grinning. The poor boy was probably a couple of hundred years old and still he now looked positively flustered. “I hope knowing your dinner's name doesn't ruin your appetite.”

At this remark, Charles' eyes opened in shock and his hands flew up in a defensive gesture. “Oh, no, nononono, that's not why I came here this time,” he hurried to say. “I already have eaten, I promise, I just came here to say I'm sorry.”

Erik laughed. He couldn't believe a vampire could be like this. He'd always imagined undead, elegant predators, not a stuttering, flustering young men.

“You know,” Erik drawled out. “I have an idea how you could make it up to me.” It was impossible to overlook how gorgeous Charles looked. Erik had to wonder why he hadn't just used his looks to pick up somebody to drink his or her blood during or after they had sex. He himself surely would have fallen for that.

“What kind of idea?” Charles sounded suspicious.

“You and I, dinner,” Erik grinned. “And if I decide that I liked it, I'll take you back to my place, and you can...” He shrugged noncommittally. “You know.”

Charles eyes widened. “You mean like a date?”

Erik nodded.

“But I attacked you in your sleep!”

“You attacked me in my bed, I'm sure I broke your nose and I can assure you, that's the only damage done that night.” He must have become insane overnight. That was the only explanation he had for asking a vampire out. And sort of inviting him to drink his blood for desert.

“But...” Charles seemed to be thinking of other objections, but then let out a sigh. “Fine. Just don't bring a vampire hunter or werewolf.”

Erik laughed. “Seriously? I don't even know any,” he said.

“Where and when?” Charles asked. He almost looked like he was pouting. Erik bit his lip for thinking that this was adorable.

“Your call,” he said. “Text me or, I don't know, leave a message at my windowsill, whatever vampires do, when you've decided.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “I'm well capable of using a cell phone, young man,” he snorted, but he didn't sound angry. When he stepped closer to Erik, he was even smiling. When Erik arched an eyebrow at that, he explained, “I can't text you without your number. So, if you'd please?”

Erik grinned to himself as he jotted down his number for Charles. If he had become insane then be it. He had been lonely for more than a year and had been for a long time even before that when he just hadn't realized it. And now there was a very handsome young-looking man in his bedroom. In his book, things were looking up, even though just a little bit.

Charles was smiling as well, when he securely tucked the note into his suit jacket. “I should have done this from the start,” he murmured.

“Yeah, probably, it would have been a lot easier just to ask me out and then break the whole vampire thing to me easily,” Erik said.

Charles shook his head. “There's no easy way for that.” He sounded a little sad. “Anyway, I'll call you. Text you. Whatever. See you soon?”

Erik nodded. He got out of bed when Charles walked back over to the window. For a brief moment, he was tempted to hug Charles, but in the end, he decided on a rather awkward pat of his shoulder. “See you soon.”

Charles shot him a smile, before he climbed back out the window and dropped down into the night.

Later in bed, Erik asked himself if he really should be happy about an upcoming date with an adorable vampire.


	16. The A/O one in the aquarium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega!Erik gets hit on by Alpha!Charles when he visits the aquarium with his sister Emma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for an anonymous prompt on tumblr a while ago.

Erik had no idea how Emma had managed to  ~~talk him into~~  force him to accompany her to to the aquarium. He didn't enjoy places like this. He didn't enjoy going out in general. He especially didn't enjoy they way people always stared at him. It made his skin crawl and he was constantly tempted to check his reflection in case his face was dirty or there were something wrong with his hair.

But his big alpha sister had made herself very clear about the consequences should he not join her on that day. Blackmail, was what he had called it but she'd ignored all his complaints and empty angry threads. She always knew that he wouldn't follow through with any of them. But one day, he promised himself at times like that, he would leave and never do so much as to look back at her once.

But today was not that day, now would tomorrow be. So he followed her through the rooms of the aquarium, occasionally looking at some tank or another she pointed out and let her tease him mercilessly that he was no fun at all.

"If you wanted someone fun for company, you should have asked one of your friends," Erik grumbled. They were leaving one room with a lot of smaller tanks along the walls showing off all kinds of tropical fish for a hallway that shone with dim blue light. Water cast ever changing shadows unto the floor. Erik wondered why, before he stepped through the doorway and found himself staring at the ceiling, the walls.

He was surrounded by water. The walls and ceiling were acrylic glass. The hallway was less a hallway than a tunnel through the ocean. Erik looked up in grudging wonder. He'd never say it out loud but this was impressive. Emma was forgotten as he stepped up to the rail running along the wall, keeping the visitors about half a foot away from the glass, that was stained with fingerprints nonetheless.

With growing awe and not a small bit of curiosity, Erik watched the fishes in the giant tank, watched stingrays fly idly by and the drift of current wave through the anemones living on the rocks and grounds at the bottom. But what really kept his attention was the shark, swimming up to him and then taking the turn to swim overhead to the other side of the tunnel.

He was so fascinated by the view that he didn't even notice someone stepping up next to him.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" The young voice startled Erik. He had to fight the impulse to whip around. Slowly, as patient as he could muster, he turned to the man who had stepped up next to him. It was an alpha, short but about his age, surprisingly handsome. Erik ached an eyebrow. What could someone like that want to talk to him about?

Not that he cared in particular, but it would be rude not to answer and Emma was nowhere to be seen. So he could indulge himself in a little talk with a handsome stranger, couldn't he? There was no harm in that. It wouldn't lead anywhere. After all, there was nothing very desirable about Erik.

"Very much so," Erik answered slowly. "They're incredible." His eyes trailed back to the shark again, but only for a moment before he looked at the man again. "I didn't even know they had some here."

The stranger smiled. He was still looking at Erik and it started to make him feel uncomfortable. As it was, he really hated the attention of others. Feeling his ears starting to burn under the unwelcome stare, he looked down to the floor, then feeling stupid at the other wall of the tunnel, everywhere but at the young man in front of him. Why did he have to be this damnable handsome? It would be easier if he hadn't been. 

"Then it's strange that you came here anyway," the stranger chuckled. It was a cute little sound, that sent warm shivers down Erik's spine, a sensation he had experienced never before. "This is the main attraction of this aquarium, so to say. I thought everyone coming here knew about it."

Erik could do nothing but shrug. He had never felt this embarrassed about not knowing something since school. "I'm here with my sister," he murmured in the direction of a passing stingray. "She wanted to come and dragged me along."

From the corner of his eye, Erik could see the young man smile. "Then I'm really lucky to have met you today."

Erik couldn't help but snort at that. He couldn't think of any reason why this should be more than an empty phrase.

This time, when the stranger smiled at him, Erik was just looking up. "Don't be like that, I mean it," he said, offering his hand to Erik. "I'm Charles. What's your name?"

Erik was tempted not to answer. Emma had undergone great pains to teach him not to talk to random alphas he didn't know. She may or may not have especially warned him about handsome young man. "Erik," he said, thinking of Emma. After another moment of hesitation, he took Charles hand and shook it.

"Pleased to meet you," Charles said. The smile didn't waver for even one second as he said the words. Erik started to suspect it was genuine.

"Yeah, me too," he answered lamely.

Charles tilted his head at that. "What's the matter, Erik? Is something wrong?"

Erik shook his head. "I- I just don't understand," he mumbled. Suddenly, he wasn't able to look at Charles any longer. Those bright blue eyes... those perfect red lips... Why someone devastatingly handsome even noticing him in the first place was beyond him.

"Understand what?" Charles laughed again. "That I'm flirting with you?"

"Yes! No! I mean..." Erik sighed. "I know you were flirting but... why me?" He shrugged. He felt so very lost here.

Charles touched his upper arm for a second. "Oh," he said. "Oh! Really?" He ran a hand through his hair. "Wow, I- Do you have any idea how handsome you are? How good looking?"

Erik blinked at him. Then, he blinked some more, trying to process what he'd just heard. That were the words he had meant to say. Charles couldn't be serious. "I'm nothing special," was what he finally settled for.

"Oh, my friend, I can assure you you're very special," Charles said, now settling both of his hands on Erik's shoulder, before stroking down his arms. "You... trust me, you look fantastic. How can you not know that?"

Erik was about to answer, when someone called out to Charles and he was too distracted mourning the loss of Charles touching him to recognize the voice at first. Only when Charles turned and hugged her did he recognize Emma. He was still standing there, gaping, when they were done greeting each other.

"I see you found my stray brother," Emma said, glancing briefly over to Erik.

"Oh, he's your brother?" Charles turned to Erik and smiled at him again. "So good looks run in your family?"

Emma arched an eyebrow at that and Erik knew her well enough that she was considering to step in when Charles placed an arm around Erik's waist. "Where did you hide him for so long?"

Looking back and forth between the two of them, Erik tried to put the pieces together. "So, you're friends?"

"Of course, darling," Emma said dryly. Then, she turned back to Charles. "Are you still coming over for tea tomorrow? Now, that you've met my unsocial little brother?"

For a second, all too briefly, Charles tightened his grip around Erik's waist. "Of course I will," Charles said. "But..." He made a show out of looking at his watch. "I think I have to go now. As always, it was a pleasure meeting you, Emma. Erik..." He hugged him. "It was nice to finally meet you." He stepped away. "I'll see both of you tomorrow." And with a wave, he was gone before Erik's mouth had recovered from going completely dry at the hug.

Emma knew better than to comment on it, but Erik was sure she'd noticed. He would have been relieved, if he had been able to think anything else beside _He called me handsome? How can I be handsome? And I'll see him again tomorrow. I can't._

 


	17. The one in which Logan fixes everything with a kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Seriously?" he groans, closing his eyes again when Magneto leans down to kiss the professor. "If you just could leave me out of all your problems from now until forever, I would be the happiest person alive."

Logan looks unimpressed. "And why again is your stupid fight more important than all of the future of mutantkind?" he grumbles, glaring both the young version of the professor—who could have bothered to cut his hair at least once in the past few years, jeez—and of Magneto—who they should have left to rot in some plastic prison for all eternity if anyone would have listened to Logan—down like they were a pair of naughty school boys.

"I would stop being mad at him if he just apologized," the mini professor mumbles, just as baby Mags grumbles, "I'll apologize when he admits i was right about humans all along."

"Bubs," Logan sighs. He reaches out as if to place a hand on each of their shoulders but then quickly grabs their heads and smashes them together. All their stubbornness considered, there shouldn't be any damage done.

"FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIVES, ACT LIKE FUCKING ADULTS, BUBS," he yells at them at the top of his lungs. "THIS IS SERIOUS BUSINESS AND WE ALL DEPEND ON YOU TWO BLOCKHEADS WORKING TOGETHER." He clears his throat. "As I see it, there are three possibilities here. First, you admit that you're both assholes and make up again." He counts the points on his fingers. "Two, you let all go to waste. Not that this is a real option, since three: I'll make you."

"And how do you think you could make me do anything?" the baby Magneto sneers. Logan grins back at him.

"Watch and learn," he laughs, taking the young professor's chin in his hands and pulling him into a kiss. It's strangely not gross to kiss the professor, is all Logan can think before he feels himself grabbed by his bones and thrown against the nearest wall. The watchman shakes in his duct tape cocoon. Quicksilver has already fled the scene when he'd realized what Logan was going to make his dad do. Bright bub for once.

Logan gets up with a groan. He shakes his head. He hadn't thought baby Magneto would react this violent to something minor like Logan kissing but not really kissing the drowned little mouse of a professor.

"Charles, are you alright?" Logan hears young Mags ask through the ringing in his ears. "That savage feline didn't hurt you, did he?"

Logan would have snarled at the insolent boy for that, hadn't he seen how Mags was now hovering around the young professor, checking him for non-existent bruises.

"Erik, I can assure you, I'm quite alright." The baby professor is smiling, only a little but it's enough to make Logan feel like he hadn't screwed it up this time like back in the 60s when he'd thought it would be enough to tell them to just fuck the daylights out of each other.

"Charles, I'm so sorry about leaving you," the young Magneto says. Logan shakes his head. He's almost sure that won't be the last time he hears that from him.

"Oh, Erik," the baby professor replies, touching Magneto's arm. "I'm sorry as well."

Logan closes his eyes. He had already seen enough of this sort of thing to last him five lifetimes. He didn't need to see anymore. _Can I come home now, please?_ He thinks, hoping that his professor will hear him and have mercy. He even clicks his heels three times for good measure.

When Logan opens his eyes again, he's back in his own time, with his professor and—regrettably—his time's Magneto smiling at him. Logan groans.

"One could think you're not happy to see us, Logan," Magneto observes, a smile playing around his lips.

"Now, now, Erik, don't make fun of him, poor Logan did some splendid work in the past," the professor says. Logan doesn't miss how he puts his hand on top of Magneto's, nor the rings on their forth fingers.

"Seriously?" he groans, closing his eyes again when Magneto leans down to kiss the professor. "If you just could leave me out of all your problems from now until forever, I would be the happiest person alive."


	18. the one in which Logan is a marriage counselor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan dreads all his appointments with the Xavier-Lehnsherrs.

Logan eyed his five o'clock appointment warily. What he'd been thinking when he'd got himself into marriage counseling was still beyond him. Apparently, he was good at it or something. But whatever he'd been thinking—or how drunk he'd been when he'd made that decision—he would never have expected to ever face a total wreck of a marriage as the Xavier-Lehnsherr one. Just seeing their names on his surprisingly busy schedule made him get a migraine.

It wasn't something Logan dealt every day with. From what he'd learned over the past few years of counseling, they had started out quite innocent, as a couple of college sweethearts deciding that it would be a good idea to get married because they were in love and wanted the same future.

What they'd graciously overlooked at the time—or simply ignored, because that would be just like them, in Logan's opinion—was that even though they wanted the same future, their idea of means of getting to said future couldn't be any more different. Where Charles Xavier was calm and collected, more prone to over-thinking as to anything else, Erik Lehnsherr was impulsive, rash with decisions and his temper was always just a second away from snapping.

Not that Xavier wouldn't get just as nasty as Lehnsherr when they would fight. He just did it more subtly and with a lot less noise. Logan would appreciate the lack of noise wouldn't Xavier stay calm on prupose, just to make Lehnsherr get even angrier than usual. The bad part about this whole thing was, they had actually had had a time when they loved each other and it had lasted long enough for them to know each other better than would have been good for them. Hadn't they, their fights might be a little less of a mess to sort out for Logan. As it was, it took them both about three seconds to drive the other up the walls and halfway across the ceiling.

Logan wished he could just bang their heads together until they remembered that they loved each other more than anything else.

Because that was the core of the problem. And the reason why Logan wanted to get violent with them every time he even thought of them. They had tried braking up before. It had been the first thing Logan had told them to do when they came to see him. Try breaking up for a limited time, separate lodgings, separate everything, no contact, for a limited time and counseling separately with Logan in the mean time. Needless to mention, it didn't work out.

Neither of them had been able to move on. Neither of them had gotten any better, emotionally or otherwise. Neither of them had slept or eaten properly in the time they were apart. It was like they could only exist as a pair, either of opposing forces as Logan had met them, or completing each other as it must have been when they had been in their twenties.

Which was why the only way Logan could think of doing this was making them realize that they were only hating each other so much because they were both dumb, stubborn assholes very much in love but too stupid to realize this over being hurt. He had explained this a few times to them already but they never listened when he told them they were only hurting each other because they were both too proud and headstrong to admit they might have done something wrong or even take back one word they'd said in a fight.

And now he had to face them again, like every Tuesday, prepared for two hours of no progress whatsoever.

“Send them in,” he told his secretary over the intercom and failed not to sigh. He had to brace himself for the usually worst headache of the week. Sometimes he wondered if he should just let them fight it out in front of them and invest in some industrial quality ear plugs for that, so he wouldn't have to listen but could step in before they could kill each other.

Erik Lehnsherr entered the room first, followed by Charles Xavier who was pointedly looking everywhere but at his husband. That he somehow had gotten them to arrive together and not in the middle of a fight was a success in Logan's book when it came to them. Sometimes, he thought they fought like other people would go dancing or watched movies. It was just a shared hobby of theirs. He watched them as they walked over to drop down on the couch, as far apart as possible, like always. Logan had the feeling he'd seen process where there had been none.

He sighed as he got up to join them by the couch. “Any progress, boys?” Not that he had any hope. The years had taught him that even the smallest bit of progress between them could be undone in seconds. Lehnsherr shrugged, while Xavier smiled at him almost apologetically. But just almost. Logan sighed more thoroughly, even though he felt more like swearing very colorful. “I'll take that as a no, then.”

He looked from one to the other and back again. They somehow seemed at little... different. Logan couldn't quite put his finger on it but he had the feeling that there was something going on they weren't telling him. He could smell it.

“So,” he asked, clasping his hands like he had seen other counselors doing it. Remy had told him that made him look more professional. Logan might or might not have punched him for that. “How have you been this week?”

“Busy,” Xavier answered suavely. “I will have to prepare exams soon and there's paper assignments I have to work out before the end of the week.” Logan nodded.

“'n you, bub?” he asked Lehnsherr.

“Busy as well.” He stared straight at Logan, keeping his eyes fixed. Logan was long past the times when this would have made him the slightest bit uncomfortable. “There's a project due on Friday so everything is a bit hectic at the office.”

Again, Logan nodded. This started to make sense. “So, none of you has been home much this week.”

The didn't have to see them nod to know what he'd said was the truth. That at least explained the lack of fighting. They simply hadn't seen each other enough to get into a lengthy fight. It also meant there was almost no point to this meeting. Logan was about to call the whole thing off. Them living alongside each other was in his opinion a very good temporary solution and he frankly didn't give enough shit anymore to make them fight in front of him when they didn't fight without him.

“Wait,” Xavier said softly, when Logan was about to get off and throw them out. Logan blinked at him. Did he just imagine it or had Xavier shot his husband a glance, that was answered with a curt nod. Logan must be dreaming. He wondered for a second if he had knocked himself unconscious to avoid dealing with the couple. “We... we have been thinking.”

Logan rose his eyebrows. Well, that was new. He'd never heard that particular pronoun out of either their mouths before. “And talking?” he asked, suspicious.

“And talking,” Lehnsherr agreed.

Logan could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something wasn't right here. He had just to figure out what. “About what have you been talking?” Logan asked, as calmly as he could. He would be rather caught dead then letting on that the Xavier-Lehnsherrs actually managed to make him nervous.

Lehnsherr leaned forward on the couch. “You want my Charles, don’t you? I know the looks you have been giving him when you thought I wasn’t looking. Is that why you wanted to counsel us separately in the beginning? So you could court my husband behind my back?” He leaned back. “You know what, you can have him.” Lehnsherr looked briefly at Xavier, who was grinning. “Providing that I’ll be watching,” he added, now grinning himself.

“What?” Logan croaked out. He'd always known they were insane, both of them, but this was... this was something else and he didn't like the way Xavier made a show of licking his lips.

“He said you could have me,” Xavier repeated, suddenly seated much closer to his husband. “For what ever you would like. A kiss?” Again, he licked his lips. “Or even something else. You just have to tell us.”

Logan gulped. “What kind of game are you playing here, bubs?”

“No game at all,” Lehnsherr ensured him. “We're offering this in earnest.”

“Right.” Logan shook his head. “You realize you're here so I can fix your marriage, not to make matters even more complicated?”

“This won't make anything more complicated at all,” Xavier said. Logan begged the heavens for strength as his glance once again felt on Xavier's wet, extremely red lips. It really was a shame if they hadn't been kissed in a long time as the two of them claimed sometimes.

Xavier chuckled softly.

“Telepath,” Lehnsherr reminded him. Logan rolled his eyes. That wasn't something he'd usually forget. And he was always very careful to keep at least some mental shields up all the time when he was counseling a telepath.

“So, a kiss and they I can kick your sorry asses out of here to never see you again?” Logan asked. “Sounds tempting. And a fair bit off that I'm paid to achieve with you. So why would I do that?”

“Because you were thinking about it,” Xavier said. “A lot. So what harm would be done there?”

“I promise I won't hit you,” Lehnsherr provided helpfully.

Logan crossed his arms in front of his chest and shook his head. “Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “And now get out before I'll make you. Come back when you got that idea out of your fucking insane min-” His growl was cut short by Xavier reaching for his face and all but pulling him close enough to press his lips firmly on Logan's.

Logan was too startled to do anything when Xavier slid onto his lap, arms around his neck. He gasped, but Xavier took this only as an invitation to deepen the kiss. It was not bad, not really. Xavier was a very good kisser. And the way he moved his hips during the kiss... Logan was almost sad when Xavier pulled away again.

“Now.” Xavier smacked his lips. “Well, that was something.”

“Satisfied now?” Lehnsherr's voice was very much like a growl.

“Very much so,” Xavier said, sitting back down beside his husband and taking his hands. “I really want to try again.” They looked each other deeply in the eyes. Logan stared at them. The fuck was going on with them.

Lehnsherr swallowed. “I do, as well, I also want to try again,” he murmured. He cupped Xavier's cheek with one hand. “I'd never want to see you kiss another person ever again.”

“Oh, Erik.” Xavier leaned into the touch. Logan rolled his eyes. “I never want to kiss anyone but you again.”

“Oh give me a break,” Logan growled. It wasn't his damn problem that he'd just interrupted them in being repulsively sweet with each other. He liked his teeth without cavities, thank you very much. Lehnsherr shot him a glare. “So, this right now was just a final test for...what, each other?”

Xavier nodded softly.

Logan huffed out a breath. “Okay, whatever. I just want to know why?”

Lehnsherr shrugged. “I was tired of waking up alone every morning.”

“And I didn't like going to bed all by myself every night,” Xavier added.

“We both thought about what you'd said,” Lehnsherr went on. “And it turned out, you were right. At least a little bit. We... talked. And apologized. Made-up. Just like... like you'd always said we should.”

“You...did,” Logan asked sceptically.

“We did,” Xavier confirmed. “So, thanks.” He stood up and pulled his husband to his feet with him. “Should we come by next week again?”

Logan laughed. “Don't you dare. I don't want to see you two here ever again. Now get the fuck out of here, you bastards.”

Xavier grinned at him. “Thanks, Mr Howlett. For everything.” He giggled as his husband practically dragged him to the door. “We promise we won't need your assistance in the future.”

Logan shook his head when they were gone. He gave them half a year until they would be coming back to see him.

  
  


Logan really hated it when he was right about Xavier and Lehnsherr.


	20. The one in which Erik is a kitten and Charles a corgi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the anon prompt:
> 
> Corgi!Charles&Kitten!Erik

Erik is on the hunt. And not on the hunt for anything. He's trying to get hold of the white wagging thing just beyond the shadow of the couch under which Erik's cowering right now, waiting for his moment to strike. Without making any noise, he creeps closer to the edge.

His eyes follow the path of the fluffy white wagging thing. Its movements are predictable and steady like those of a metronome--that thing on his human servant's noisemaking furniture Erik isn't allowed to hit with his paws even though it's moving and practically begging to be touched by a curious kitten.

Erik cowers a little more, making himself ready to jump forward. He wriggles his butt like he's seen other, elder cats do, before he leaps forward at his target, paws first but his claws securely withdrawn.

He gets hold of the fluffy fur of Charles' wagging tail. Using his full weight of three pounds, he tries to hold onto it and not let it slip from his grasp. He was just about to playfully bite into the tail, when Charles' turns around and gives him a look.

"And just what are you doing?" he asks, a little exasperated. The corgi is by now used to being the favorite toy or play mate or whatever he is to the young kitten but there are still times when he has no idea how he had deserved that. Not, that he would ever tell Erik to stop.

"Hunting," Erik murmurs back, his eyes still focused on Charles' tail.

Charles' sighs. "And why my tail of all things?"

Erik cowers a bit but Charles knows the kitten by now well enough to know that this doesn't mean that he feels bad about anything. More likely, it means that Erik's about to leap at him and involve him in yet another play-fight.

Of course, Charles is right with this prediction. Erik tries, he really tries with all his weight and the experience of his months. Charles wouldn't be impressed by that, he's stronger, but only if he wants to. Usually, letting Erik win these fights is far more rewarding for him.

Which is why after a few moments of halfhearted shoves with one paw to get Erik to stop, he gives in, rolling to his side. He's careful not to crush Erik under him, but even careful to let him just enough space to free himself.

With a triumphant soft purr, Erik wraps his still short paws around Charles' neck and pulls him closer. If he would be older and stronger, he might be able to hold Charles like this without his consent. But as it is, Charles is very content with what he has.

"I won," Erik purrs.

Charles tries very hard not to smile at that. Only his treacherous wagging tail betrays his feelings. Luckily Erik's too busy preening him to notice it.


	21. The High School AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the few weeks since they had started dating, the thought of telling his friends had somehow slipped Charles' mind. Or maybe he didn't want to tell his friends that Erik had only picked on him to win his attention.

Charles glared over the edge of his milkshake cup. He glared at no one in particular, even though he really wanted to glare at Erik. The older teen was leaning against a wall on the other side of the street, opposite to where Charles and his friends were drinking their milkshakes. For the past ten minutes, Erik had been having rater explicit thoughts about Charles and the straw between his lips. Well, maybe not exactly the straw. But Charles got the idea. The worst part about it was how Erik was broadcasting those thoughts very loudly, definitely meant for Charles to pick up.

With every passing minute, Charles found it harder to follow his friends' conversation.

“...and that's when... Charles? Are you still with us?” Alex suddenly interrupted his story to look at Charles. He seemed worried, just like Hank and Sean.

“It's nothing.” Charles shook his head, mostly to shake of the latest image of Erik's fantasies—this one a particularly embarrassing one about Charles sucking on, well, they definitely would talk about this later, Charles decided—but also to assure his friends that no, nothing was amiss.

None of them seemed too convinced. Alex even nodded in Erik's general direction. “Is he bothering you again?”

Charles bit his lower lip. In a way, Erik really was bothering him, but that was very much not the way Alex had had in mind when asking. And probably not something he should be sharing with them.

“You know,” Alex went on, flexing his fingers. “If you want me to talk to him or walk you home, you just have to say a word. It's no problem.”

That actually made Charles smile. He really was glad to have friends like them. But in this case, he wouldn't need any assistance. “Don't worry,” he said slowly, putting down his milkshake and slowly standing up. That caused Erik to send him a few appreciating thoughts about the looks of his butt. _Stop it_ , Charles hissed into Erik's mind. _Or what?_ , was Erik's answer, wrapped into a faint hint of arousal mixed with amusement. “I can take care of it myself,” Charles said out loud.

Before his friends could do anything to stop him, he left the table and walked over to the still grinning Erik. Charles knew this worried his friends and they would be rushing to his side in no time, should Erik try anything like the things they expected him to do. In the few weeks since they had started dating, the thought of telling his friends had somehow slipped Charles' mind. Or maybe he didn't want to tell his friends that Erik had only picked on him to win his attention. _You're such a child_ , Charles thought when he was only a few steps away.

“What do you want, Xavier?” Erik asked out loud, not even bothering to take his hands out of his pockets.

“Shouldn't be the question what do you want, Erik?” Charles hummed. He was now up close to Erik and smiling at the taller boy. “You were thinking about me very loudly and I don't appreciate that.”

_What are you doing?_ , Erik thought as Charles placed his hands on his shoulders, stepping closer—and deliberately on Erik's feet, effectively bringing them closer in means of height. Close enough for Charles not to have to lean up when he kissed Erik. He could feel his friends' shock when they realized what he was doing, also the protective surge coming from Alex and the _Oh, please, no, Lehnsherr is going to kill him for that_ which was what all three of them were thinking in various versions.

Erik's grin had only faltered for a second, before he knew what Charles was up to. Now, he had wrapped his arms around Charles' hips and held him like this while lazily kissing back. “I thought you wanted to make me stop thinking of you like that,” he chuckled into the kiss after a while.

“I might have changed my mind,” Charles hummed in return. He could feel one of Erik's hands drifting down to lightly cup his butt but he didn't comment on that. If he was honest with himself, he had been waiting to kiss Erik in public for a while now. “Isn't being seen kissing a nerd punishment enough for you?”

Erik's grip around him tightened a little. “Don't you ever think that,” he growled. “They should all be jealous that it's me and not them kissing you.” He glanced over Charles' shoulder. “Your friends sure look like the can't believe what they're seeing.”

“They might still think you might beat me up for this,” Charles chuckled.

“Oh, would they, now?” Erik raised an eyebrow. “I wonder why...Ouch!” Out of reflex, he shoved Charles a little bit away when Charles had carefully shifted more of his weight onto Erik's feet. Charles chuckled.

“How about this,” Charles whispered against Erik's lips. “We leave now and you take me home. Some of the ideas you've been having were quite interesting, don't you think? And tomorrow, we'll explain a thing or two to my friends so Alex will hopefully stop plotting your death.”

Erik grinned. Charles didn't even need to read his mind to know what he was thinking. It was still nice to be able to anyway. “Let's go before any of your friends musters enough courage to confront me,” Erik said, taking Charles' hand in his.

Charles nodded, a grin matching Erik's playing around his lips. “Let's go,” Charles agreed. There were things more important than explaining to his friends why he kissed the bully.

 


	22. The one in which rebound guy Logan becomes Charles' boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: XAVERINE!
> 
> Logan has always the best ideas on how to deal with a broken heart.

Charles felt like shit. He hadn't gotten enough sleep in days. Not that he had minded at first. It had been his own decision and he had enjoyed every second of staying up so late he wasn't tired anymore when he eventually would get into bed. Erik and him had hit it off so splendidly. He had seen him regularly in the park on weekends, playing chess just like him. They had played each other once or twice and Charles had enjoyed it every time, but it had not been until last month when they had played more than one game of chess in a row that they had started talking. They had played two more games, until it had started to get dark and cold, too cold to be playing outside. Which had been why they then had exchanged e-mail addresses and Charles had promised to show Erik to an online chess client which they could use to play during the week. He had kept the promise and soon they had been playing almost every day.

Charles had thought he could sense Erik getting more and more interested in him over their chats while playing. Just like he had become more and more interested in the man. He had found himself looking forward to meeting him, had felt giddy when he was getting ready for their weekly games of chess in the park.

What he hadn't expected to happen was Erik one day showing up with two children, his own children and explaining to him that he was married. Charles had felt like the world had fallen apart beneath his feet. He had excused himself that day. Had hurried home as fast as he could and hadn't returned any calls that day. He hadn't needed anyone to see how broken up he was about the revelation that one of his friends was a married man. He shouldn't have been.

And yet he was.

His heartbreak had made him go out of his way and deliberately seek out a bar he did not usually frequent, at another part of town. It was a grubby little hole he had chosen tonight but he didn't care as long as they would serve him enough alcohol to drown his sorrows. He felt like a silly teenager mourning over the loss of what only had been fantasy.

"Oi, kid, slow down a bit," the bar tender--a burly, hair man--said to him after Charles had downed his first beer in almost one big gulp. "You're going to drink yourself to death like that."

Charles shook his head. "I wish I could."

"Whatever's the matter, I doubt it's worth it," the bartender grumbled. His voice was low, but not unpleasant. "Wanna talk about it?"

Charles really, really didn't. Why he still started to talk when he was passed another beer, he didn't know. Why he kept on talking after the first short sentences and started to tell the whole story was even further beyond him. The bartender listened carefully, if a little disinterested, tending to other people as well while he did, nodding and grunting at all the right places. By the time he had finished his tale, he had drunken at least another two beers. To his surprise, he did feel better now that he voiced his sorrows.

"You know, kid," the bartender said, a while after Charles had finished his story and had fallen silent. "I know a girl that was to me just like that man is to you. Let me tell you a thing: You will and won't get over him eventually."

"Will and won't?" Charles smiled. "That can't be. It's either or."

The bartender shook his head. "You will eventually accept that he's married and get over that. But if you'll ever get over those feelings in that cute little chest of yours... who knows." He shrugged.

Charles sighed. "I wish eventually would be now."

The bartender gave him a smirk that was all teeth. It made him look terrifying--and strangely attractive. Charles blamed this on the beer. "You know, the fastest way to get over him is to... indulge with someone else."

Charles blinked. "Are you flirting with me?" he gasped.

The burly man laughed. "I've been flirting with you ever since you came through that door. You just didn't notice. I'm Logan, by the way."

"Charles," Charles muttered automatically. Logan's smirk widened.

"So, how about it?"

Charles took his time to think about this. Not that he really did need it. Logan was, in his own way, a very handsome man, if a little bit on the wild side. He seemed nice enough and, most importantly, it would only be for one night only anyway. Slowly, Charles brushed his thumb over his lips as he pretended to be thinking. Even though he was more than just slightly drunk, he didn't miss Logan's appreciative look.

Charles smiled. "I think," he whispered, very pleased that Logan was leaning forward to catch his words. He grabbed the man's collar and pulled him in for a quick kiss. "I think I would rather like to indulge with you for a bit."

\--

He didn't see Erik again for a whole month. He wasn't sure whose fault it had been. Charles had been rather busy lately. But they had met in person again eventually, in the park and Charles had excused himself for his behavior and they had played one game. Charles still felt a little nervous around Erik, Erik's gaze was still making his heart flutter a little. But he felt like it was getting better, less painful. Wouldn't he have been able to stand the other's company, he would have left immediately.

He still liked being around Erik, romantic interest or not. The or not part was the key here. Charles had used the month to.. well, to think, amongst other things. He had made up his mind about Erik and had come to the conclusion he wouldn't pine after a married man for the rest of his life. Not when there were enough other interesting men in the world.

Speaking of which. They had just finished their first match when Charles saw Logan approach them. He couldn't help but beam at him and was almost out of his seat on his own when his boyfriend pulled him up into a hug and a kiss.

Charles would have had to lie to say that the gasp from Erik and the flash of jealousy on his face weren't satisfying.


	23. The one with the hand puppet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is working in a museum, showing children around with the help of a hand puppet. Of course, in every one of those groups, there has to be one spoilsport. Only this time, it's his boyfriend's son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Issabella's fault. Oh the images in my head you gave me!

"I know how you’re doing it," some boy in the group of children he was leading through their Museum of Natural History declared. The silver-haired—silver of all possible colors what were his parents even thinking—boy pointed accusingly at the puppet on Charles arm. The puppet he was currently… The hand puppet he used to guide the children through the museum. There always was a kid like this boy, but for some reason Charles was more annoyed than usual at this brat. Okay, it could also be fueled by the annoyance coming off the boy’s sister in strong, angry waves.

"So, you know what lets people move?" Charles asked, his voice pitched a tad higher to make it sound like the voice of Greggy the puppet. His collegue Moira had named him, in honor of Gregor Mendel, back when the special exhibition had been about called "The Birth of Genetics" and the puppet was new. Even after the exhibition was gone, the name had stuck. And now, Greggy was guiding groups of children through the museum once every sunday and twice on saturdays.

The boy glowered at Charles. It reminded him a little of his boyfriend, though that couldn’t be, could it? Charles knew Erik had two kids from when he had been married but he had yet to meet them. “Puppets can’t talk,” the boy grumbled and Charles caught a exasperate _Pietro!_ from his sister. “It’s all just you. And I know how you’re doing it.”

Greggy turned his head very slowly to Charles. “So, me is not talking and it’s all just you.” Greggy’s voice was full of accusation. Some of the kids in the back snickered.

"Stop that," Pietro grumbled. "You just have your hand inside and make him move like that." He huffed. "Everyone can see your mouth move when he talks, too."

Greggy looked down at Charles’ hand and then up at his face again. “Do you now?” he asked Charles. Charles shrugged, as if he felt uncomfortable under the accusing looks the puppet shot him. “But how’s that possible, when I know so much more about mutations and dinosaurs than he’ll ever know?” Greggy addressed the group. Most of them laughed. And with that, the matter was settled.

At least for the moment.

Charles hadn’t been expecting Erik waiting with the other parents after the guided tour to pick up their kids. Or better, he had, because he’d felt his boyfriend’s mind entering the museum and had watched Pietro close enough to be almost certain that he and Erik were related before he and his sister Wanda ran screaming into Erik’s outstretched arms.

Tied up in a chat with some other parents, Charles watched the little family of three greet. It took him a bit to free himself, but then again, Erik didn’t appear to be in any hurry at all. Charles brushed his mind against Erik’s, just to let him know he was there and received a wave of affection and an open invitation to join them if he liked in return. At his leisure, and when finally, nobody was asking him about birthdays and excursions to the museum anymore, Charles strolled over to Erik and his two children.

"You’re not the one who dropped them off," he said sternly, however he send Erik the impression of a kiss as well. He did not yet know whether or not non-telepathic kisses in front of Wanda and Pietro were even acceptable. "Are you even allowed to pick them up?"

Pietro frowned up at him. “That’s our dad,” he informed Charles as if the latter didn’t know that. “Papa, that’s the guide I told you about, who said the puppet was real!” he added in Erik’s direction in what he must think was a hushed voice.

"So," Charles crouched down so his face was level with Pietro’s. "And does your mom know he’s picking you up?"

The twins nodded dutifully.

 _Yes, she does. She had some emergency at her company and can’t look after those two. So it’s daddy’s weekend all of a sudden. Sorry,_ Erik thought at him. _You weren’t really attemption to stop me from taking them home, were you?_

 _I’m supposed to ask, but don’t worry, Magda informed me I would have the questionable pleasure of looking after them if you didn’t show up. She somewhat missed the point that I have to look after them and you no matter what_ , Charles replied. Out loud, he said, “Well, then, I guess I have to believe you. Even though you didn’t believe poor old Greggy earlier.”

"But I know it was just you, with your hand, that made him move," Pietro whined, tugging at Erik’s sleeve. Wanda rolled her eyes at her brother and shot Charles a sympathetic glance. "Daddy, tell him that it’s just him with his hand up his back that made Greggy move and talk!"

Charles raised an eyebrow at Erik. He hadn’t missed the rather explicit thought his boyfriend had had about him sticking his hand up something. Not like that! he hissed into Erik’s mind but all he got in return was a chuckle.

"So, Greggy is your hand puppet?" Erik asked.

"More of my assistant, really," Charles replied. "But Pietro just wants to be a spoilsport," Wanda interupted him. "Just because he figured something out for once. I liked Greggy, he is funny."

"Thanks," Charles smiled at her and she smiled back. He found that he rather liked her already.

With a little sigh, Charles got up again. “I think I kept you too long,” he said. There were almost none of the other parents or children around anymore. “Sorry. I’m sure you have other plans, too.”

Erik just hummed. “There’s some shopping to be done if we’re four instead of just us two tonight,” he mused. “Well, see you at home. I don’t want to keep you from your work either.” And with that, much too Pietro’s obvious horror, Erik kissed Charles good-bye.

"See you at home," Charles replied. Pietro had already fled the scene, with Erik following him. Wanda hesitated for a moment, looking back at Charles. She hugged him around the waist and whispered "See you at home" before she followed her father.

Charles had trouble keeping the smile off his face for the rest of the day.


	24. The one with the chocolate feeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik has brought chocolate with him from a business trip and is now feeding it to his husband.

"Charles," Erik hummed into his husband's ear. They were lying on the couch, or more accurately, Erik was and Charles was lying on top of him, snuggling against his chest. "I got something for you when I was on that business trip to Zurrich."

However, he hadn't stopped petting Charles, so all he got in response was a content hum. But Erik was fine with it. He reached behind, to pick up the small box he had dropped next to the couch. "Close your eyes," he instructed.

Charles did as he was told, not that he had needed much convincing at this point, after half an hour of snuggling and lazy kissing. Erik opened the box, and took out one of the small pralinés, one of those filled with Kirschwasser. He sniffed at it, wondering idly if he should try it first before feeding them to Charles. But he didn't have much time to think about it. He could already feel the chocolate melting between his fingers.

He held the praline against Charles' lips. "Open up," breathed Erik.

Charles did, licking tentatively over the the small piece of chocolate, before off a bit. The moment he did, his eyes fluttered open. "Mhhh," Charles said. He made a little show of sucking the last bit of the schnapps out of its chocolate prison, before eating the rest of it and then moving on to lick Erik's fingers clean of molten chocolate, all the while humming in a very pleased manner.

"That was heavenly," Charles sighed, letting finally go of Erik's fingers. Erik, thanks to his dry throat, could only answer by nodding. "But you didn't have to spend so much money on chocolate for me."

Erik laughed softly. "It's okay, really. I thought it would be easier to bring you chocolate than a cow bell for a present. If you like it, I got more. The chocolate has to last until my next trip after all, hasn't it?"  
Charles giggled, as Erik proceeded to feed him the next bite of chocolate.


	25. The one in which Charles is not a morning person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is not a morning person at all. Sometimes, his very much a morning person boyfriend Erik takes it upon him to wake him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik doesn’t really send cute messages#just a ‘morning love wake up or you’ll be late for work’to which Charles jumps off the bed because shit he is late#and also because he hates getting up early but waking up to Erik’s messages is the best#even if he still swears sometimes specially when he has the day off
> 
> (via [wolfsban](wolfsban.tumblr.com)
> 
> So, Erik doesn’t send a message, because he knows messages aren’t enough against Charles and his sleepiness. But anyway, I think I wrote something fluffy.)

At six every morning, Charles would turn off his alarm for the first time and go back to sleep.

Thirty minutes later, his alarm would go off for a second time, and every morning, he would put it on sleep without even fully waking up himself.

Without fail every morning, when it would go off for the third time, at quarter to seven, he would throw it across the room so he would have to retrieve it to put it asleep when the forth alarm was waking him once more at seven. Of course, every morning, seven o’clock still came as a surprise.

At seven, when he wouldn’t be able to find his cell phone to turn of the alarm on the night stand, Charles would grumble and curse, but still get out of bed, find it somewhere in the laundry basket he was always aiming for, turn it off, walk back to the bed, realize it was seven, curse some more and rush into the bathroom. Depending on how awake—or not—he was, he would have to skip breakfast after showering, grabbing a coffee to go on his way to work rather than having a quiet cup of tea at home.

The only days that were different were the weekends, when he simply slept in, and the days Erik stayed over.

For some to Charles unfathomable reason, Erik was a morning person. He could wake up, without an alarm, at the crack of dawn, which was pretty much a miracle in Charles’ book. He was even happy to get up early, which was even more marvelous, and liked to be up and about while the rest of the, sane, world was still in the hazy space between asleep and awake.

He never spared Charles. Every time, he had to wake up Charles after a while, claiming that he had made breakfast, true every time, or that he was simply bored and wanted another round of last night’s activity, not that Charles minded waking up like that. The only thing bothersome was that Erik expected him to be fully awake in less than five minutes, and Charles needed either the cold shock of being late or a whole lot more time to do that.

Too bad Erik didn’t stay over often on weekdays. With his help, Charles was usually on time at work and even had managed to have a full breakfast before heading out.

This morning, however, Charles alarm went off at the wrong time. At six twenty-five, his cell phone started ringing. Disoriented, Charles picked it up, trying to turn the alarm off and accepted the call.

“Good morning, Charles,” Erik’s voice, all clear and much too awake, chirped from the speaker.

“Ngfl?” Charles answered.

“I thought I’d call you today to wake you up,” Erik chuckled. “So you won’t be late four days in a row.”

“It’s been only two,” Charles grumbled, trying to push his face into his cushion as deep as possible while at the same time not to let go of his phone. He liked hearing Erik’s voice first thing in the morning.

“It’s Thursday. It’s been three.” Erik laughed. Charles was sure he heard a coffee machine run in the background.

He cursed softly, but still loud enough for that early bird bastard to hear him. “Okay, fine, you got me, I’m awake enough to get out of bed now,” Charles groaned, turning over onto his back and stared at the white ceiling of his bedroom. “What do I get if I actually get up now and manage to be on time today?”

“A kiss,” Erik hummed. “And a treat, if you’re out the door at ten past seven.”

“Fine. But it’d better be a good treat.”

“Always for you, Charles. I love you.”

Charles barely, just barely managed to leave the apartment building at ten past seven on the dot. He just hadn’t known what to do with so much time on his hands, so he lost a little track of time when actually sitting down for breakfast. He hadn’t sat down for breakfast all on his own since forever on a workday.

He was in so much of a hurry that he missed the car pulling over by his side. He almost missed someone calling his name. But then Erik called out to him again, and Charles finally noticed the car with the rolled down window through which his boyfriend was grinning at him. “Morning, handsome.”

“Erik!” Charles blinked and got into the car. “What are you doing here?” He leaned over the emergency brake to where Erik was waiting to be kissed.

“I thought, if you really manage to get out of bed all by yourself, I could pick you up and drive you to work for a treat,” Erik explained. He steered the car back into the traffic. He smiled warmly as Charles put his hand on his knee and squeezed lightly.

Charles hummed. “So, if I get to wake up like this every day, I just might get used to it.”

“Alright.” Erik laughed. “I wouldn’t mind.” He placed a hand over Charles’. “I like spending time with you, Charles Xavier.”

“…that almost sounded like a proposal,” Charles choked out past his initial shock.

Erik pulled over and stopped the car again, so he could look Charles in the face. “And if it was?”

“I don’t know!” Charles blurted out. “Don’t ask me difficult things early in the morning!”

“It doesn’t have to be difficult.” Erik started stroking over the base of Charles’ ring finger. “Just a simple yes or no question. Do you want to move in with me? It doesn’t have to be one of our places. We could look for a flat together. But I’d really like it, you know?”

Charles gaped at his boyfriend. “Yes, yes of course I want to.”

Needless to say, despite Erik’s best intentions, Charles was late that day as well. Not that it mattered.


	26. The one in which they meet in an empty theater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles put off seeing Raven's latest movie until the last day. Now, it's only him and a handsome stranger in the theater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by [accio-my-childhood](accio-my-childhood.tumblr.com)

Charles entered the cinema about a minute before the movie was about to start. He had put off seeing this movie for so long until he’d almost forgotten about it and now was the last day and he would never survive Raven’s next visit if he wouldn’t have watched her first big lead role at the movies instead of at home. The only problem had been said role. Raven had been casted for her mutation just as much as for her talent and was saving the studio much money on special effect makeup by playing some detective—male, why the heck ever—with a lot of old burn scars in his face. And, and this was the point which had made Charles put off watching the movie for so long, developed a relationship with the equally male coroner he was working with on a case. The thought of seeing his sister, shifted into a guy, sharing intense moments and kisses with another guy on screen was one thing. Having to live through hearing the thoughts of at least a hundred people about it was a different matter entirely.

The cinema was empty but for one other person. He looked up for a moment when Charles entered, but returned his attention back to the screen almost immediately, too quickly for Charles to see but a rather handsome profile with many sharp angles. The trailers were already running. Charles choose a seat in the back, incidentally in the same row as the guy, but only because that was the row which had the best view to the screen.

With his mental shields up so he wouldn’t pick up any thought at all from the guy, Charles watched the screen. Sadly, the basic plot was rather dull and predictable, only spiced up with the budding gay relationship. Soon, Charles found his attention wander. It wasn’t that he disliked watching movies, but this particular one he wouldn’t have watched hadn’t it been for his sister playing the lead character.

Once, Charles looked over to the guy, studying the man’s profile in the light of some second rate action scene on the screen. Just as Charles had thought from the first quick glance, the guy was handsome. Handsome enough that Charles caught himself studying the man’s face as he watched the movie far longer than he’d at first intended. And he only noticed because when he looked back at the screen he had no clue whatsoever about what had happened.

Flustered with his own awkward behavior, he returned his attention to the movie.

He managed to loose himself halfheartedly in the plot. At least that was what he liked to tell himself. He still shot the guy a glance once in a while, but he had stopped staring. Instead, he had taken up fiddling with his watch—steel, most of it, especially the strap. It might just have been wistful thinking, but he thought he felt the guy look his way more than once as well.

Charles managed to keep his gaze locked to the screen until the kiss scene. He had know it was about to come for Raven had told him about it, but he still watched… most of it. Because halfway through the kiss, he felt the guy looking at him again. Charles face started to heat up and he was thankful for the dark room they were sitting in. There was a slight tug at his watch. Confused, Charles looked first down at his watch and then up at the guy, who was staring at him unabashedly with a big grin on his face.

The metal of Charles’ watch heated up until he jumped in his seat. He glared at the guy, who kept on grinning, looking not at all sorry.

Was that your doing? Charles asked, not out loud but into the guy’s mind.

Telepath, huh? The guy—the thoughts he pushed forward as though he knew what he was doing announced that he was called Erik—thought. Charles was already about to defend himself, when appreciative thoughts followed. He blinked. So Erik didn’t mind telepathy. And he had looked at Charles while two men on the screen kissed, like that had been the first thing that had come to his mind upon seeing the scene.

And what if it was me? Erik sounded playful. When Charles nodded toward the screen. Erik just laughed, pushing the feel of general boredom toward Charles. Don’t tell me you were watching that flick, I saw you almost dozing off more than once. Beer? Dinner?

Do you always pick up guys in empty theaters? Charles shot back. It wasn’t like he was opposed to leaving, though. A beer with Erik sounded much more tempting than another thirty minutes of bad writing with his sister having a gay affair on screen.

Again, Erik laughed. Only the cute ones. So, beer? You haven’t said no yet.

Hmmmm, beer sounds lovely, Charles told him, adding the mental equivalent of a wistful sigh. But I have to watch this movie so I can tell my sister I did. And she will ask questions. Difficult ones for all I paid attention.

All thanks to me?

Charles glared at Erik, who couldn’t even see it. Don’t flatter yourself overmuch.

“Then how about this: you come sit over here with me now and we’ll go for a beer after the movie?” Erik asked out loud and oh, his voice was just as lovely as his face. He even leaned over the seats between them to come closer to Charles.

Charles didn’t even grace that with an answer, but stood up and took the seat right next to Erik. The last minutes of the movie were, surprisingly more bearable, not just because of Erik tentatively taking his hand and holding it for the rest of it, but that had definitely a part in it.

The beer later, over which they discussed the movie, amongst other, way more interesting things like at whose place to spent the night, was even better.


	27. The one with the graveyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles takes the short cut over the cemetery on his way home. In the mists, he meets some gorgeous stranger.

Mist was creeping up from the damp ground and the river as Charles pushed the cementery gates open. He pulled the lapels of his coat tighter and crossed his arms to keep more warmth in. He wasn’t here to visit any of the graves, though on nicer days he sometimes stood and looked at some of them. It just happened to be a shortcut on his way home if he walked across the old cementary.

A cold wind rustled the last yellow and brown leaves on the trees. Charles shivered. The sooner he got home the better, really. His shoes were feeling a little clammy, his hair had started to feel moist. Late fall was not the right season to go out. At least at home he could make himself a nice cup of tea and cuddle up in a blanket to get warm again.

Charles was so busy squaring his shoulders against the wind and hiding as much of his face in his coat as possible that he didn’t notice the figue stepping out of the mist in front of him. The feet, clad in pointy shoes so polished they gleamed, that suddenly appeared in his view therefore startled him.

"Oh excuse me," Charles breathed, trying to conceal his puzzlement. He’d never met anyone on this cemetary before, at certainly hadn’t expected to in this weather.

The man standling in front of Charles was taller than him, and dark and handsome, too. He was wearing an old trenchcoat against the cold, and an hat so out of fashion it could be considered an hommage to the 1920s and 30s against the moist. The rest of his clothes look oldfashioned as well, as if he hadn’t realized that it wasn’t 1928 anymore. Under the trench, Charles could make out what looked like a three piece, pinstripe suit. All in all, the man looked rather dashing, if a bit on the eighty years late side of it.

"Not at all," the man answered and Charles blinked. A cocky grin appeared on the man’s face, making him even more attractive.

"Pardon, but what did you just mean?"

This made the man outright laugh. “Again, I see no reason to,” he said. “I meant there was no reason to excuse you. I saw you coming my way after all, and could have stepped aside, had I bothered at all.”

"What were you doing standing in this mist anyway?" Charles asked, finally coming back to his wits. The man was not  _this_  attractive. He should stop acting like he was.

The man gave a shrug, a slow, elegant gesture. “I’m out for a stroll.” His voice dropped into a low purr, that had Charles pull his coat even tighter around himself. “And then I saw you. I noticed you before. You walk over this cemetry twice every work day, once in the morning and once in the evening. So, I gather it’s on your way to work, right?”

Charles gave a dismissive shrug. What did the man care where he walked to work. It sounded almost like he had been stalked by the guy.

"Aw, don’t be like that," the man sighed. "I’m Erik. How about I walk you to the other side?" He grinned and Charles wondered if he should run. For some reason, it seemed to be much colder close to Erik. "Of the cemetry, I meant to say," Erik laughed. "No worries, I won’t harm you. Never." He offered Charles his arm like the gentleman he wasn’t. Charles, of course, ignored the offer.

"I can’t stop you from walking in the same direction as me," Charles sighed. He still stepped around Erik and started to walk on. He didn’t stop to wait for Erik, not even when the man called out to him to slow down. "I’m cold and moist and I want to get home before I start to freeze up," he grumbled by means of explanation.

"I know a nice place you could stay and warm up a little," Erik said, suddenly next to Charles again. He must have caught up with his longer legs. Charles just hadn’t noticed.

"Where? There’s just crypts, mausolea and the chapel around here," Charles gave back. For no reason at all, the smartly dressed hunk gave him the creeps.

"Who says crypts and mausolea can’t be snug?"

Charles shuddered. He knew the other gate was close now, but he still couldn’t see it through the thickening mist. “I do,” he sighed. “Listen, why can’t you just invite me to coffee like a normal person. Who else but you would consider a mausoleum to be a place to go to get to know each other. Come to think of it, I don’t even know you well enough to consider going anywhere with you.” He could see the gate now. It were only a few more steps.

"Well, then, let’s have coffee and get to know each other. I already told you my name, so how about you tell me yours now?"

Charles pulled the gate open and stepped outside. “Charles,” he answered from the other side.

"Well then Charles, let’s have coffee. Here, if you don’t want me to take you anywhere, on the next sunny day you’ll come here, with some coffee and we’ll sit down and talk," Erik said, leaning on the headstone closest to the gate.

"I’ll think about it," Charles gave back. Then, because he hadn’t wanted his suspicion to be confirmed while he was still on the cemetery ground, added, "What’s your last name, Erik?"

Erik stood back up and bowed low. “Erik Lehnsherr, at your service.”

Charles gave a little shudder. He turned and didn’t look back again. Erik called after him, reminding him of the coffee. Charles wasn’t sure he would ever walk across the cemetry again. He remembered the name Erik Lehnsherr.

He had read it on a headstone. Erik Lehnsherr had died in 1932.

Charles sighed. If only living men would take as much interest in him. All he now needed was a hot tea. Irish.


	28. The one in which a corgi is petted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't let yourself be fooled, Erik loves his Charles and their corgi too, even though they're rather cuddling in bed with each other than both with him.

Charles has only enough time to settle down in bed before Archie jumped up next to him. Or, well, tried to, as his stubby legs only barely brought him over the edge and thus needed to scramble up, his butt waggling as he did. Charles laughed as he helped the dog up unto the bed. 

"What are you doing?" he asked Archie. "Your bed is over there, in the corner. You know Erik doesn’t like to share the bed with both of us."

Archie just looked at him with his big brown eyes and panted happily, wagging his tail, or rather the back half of his body. Charles shook his head, laughing. “Your bed,” he repeated. “Is in the corner.”

The ears of his dog twitched, before Archie tilted his head in question. He moved his head to lick Charles’ hand. Charles let him, though Archie quickly grew tired of it and looked up at Charles once more, before he flopped over, presenting his fluffy white belly for Charles to scratch and pet.

Charles was only too happy to oblige. He wasn’t too tired yet and if he was being honest, he could have spent more time with his favorite little Corgi in the past few days. He had even let Erik take Archie out for his walks most mornings and nights—though Erik said he didn’t mind taking Archie with him on his morning runs and had done so since the start. That didn’t make up for pets and scratches from Charles, though.

"Are you done now?" Erik asked after a while, when the cuddling had evolved into more like a friendly fight. "Or do you want me to sleep on the couch so you have the bed to yourself?"

"What? No!" Charles let go of Archie in favor of wrapping his arms around Erik. Archie didn’t need any invitation to follow the lead of his owner at all and happily pounced at Erik as well. The combined force brought Erik to a fall onto his cushions.

"Okay, fine, I’ll stay," Erik groaned. He tried in vain to push Archie off his chest or at least protect his face from the dripping tongue of the dog. "But let’s sleep, please, it’s late already!"


	29. The one with the punny mug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik gets the wrong mug of coffee from his assistant. But after a short talk, that doesn't matter anymore.

"…what is this?" Erik growled at the cup of what smelled like the most delicious coffee in the world his assistant had just brought him. It was not his usual cup. In fact, Erik had never seen the cup before. This was not his cup and since he hadn’t had coffee before on this morning, that somehow seemed important.

His assistant smiled one of his overly dazzling smiles at him. Erik might have shielded his eyes from it if only he had been awake enough for that. “Your cup of coffee,” Charles announced.

"That’s not my cup," Erik observed. He would remember a cup that announced  _happily_  that it was better off gay than grumpy. “My cup does not have a godforesaken pun on it.”

"But you think it’s better to be gay," his assistant asked with a cheeky wriggle of his eyebrows. "Than to be grumpy all the time?"

"Only if being gay means being gay for you too," Erik grumbled.

It took his still half asleep brain a couple of seconds and a lot of help from his vision which had registered the shocked, gaping expression on his assistant’s face, to realize that he had said this out loud.  _Fuckfuckfuck, why, he didn’t mean it like this, sure Charles hadn’t meant it like this, he didn’t even know it he even liked men,_  Erik thought, already panicky.

"Er, I," he tried to save the situation.

Charles frowned at him. Very insistently, he pushed the cup into Erik’s hands. “Drink,” he ordered. “Clearly, you’re not in your right mind before you had your first cup of coffee in the morning.”

"Wait!" Erik called after Charles who was all but fleeing the office. "I… Well, Charles, I’ve… If you do like men, that is, would you?…" Erik scrambled for the right words. "Could I invite you for dinner sometime?"

Charles rolled his eyes. “And here I thought you would never ask. You’re free Thursday, so I’ll order a table at that Thai place you like. Would eight be alright with you?”

"What…? I mean, of course, eight’s perfect."

"Good. Well then, Mr Lehnsherr," Charles almost purred.

"Yes?"

"Get the fuck to work so we won’t have to work overtime on Thursday."


	30. The one with the rumors about Charles and Emma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik hates every second he has to spent in the cafeteria at work, listening to his co-workers speculate about his husband dating that evil Emma Frost.

“Have you noticed that Miss Frost and Charles are missing again, together? What do you think, are they eating together somewhere more private today?” Raven had not even waited until her tray had hit the table until she started gossiping. Erik glared at her. However, it was too late to change seats now and thanks to Raven’s efforts in the past two years, all the respect his subordinates had had of him had been crushed. So he had now Alex and Sean on either side of him, with little to no chance to escape the gossip.

Erik was convinced the only reason why Raven was so eager to spread rumors about her brother and one of his co-workers was to get a raise out of him. Like he would ever give in. They had talked about it before. It just hadn’t helped.

“Of course they are,” Sean agreed. Erik wondered how much trouble he would get into if he stabbed the boy with his fork. Probably a lot more than if he would just drown him in work for the afternoon. “I mean, it’s like, she never skips her coffee break in his office in the morning. I wonder what they talk about then?”

“Work,” Erik muttered under his breath, too soft for anyone to overhear. “And they gossip.”

“I wonder if they talk,” Angel mused. “Or eat for that matter. Oh, Emma is always so insufferable when she didn’t get lunch.”

“You mean they skip lunch to… you know?” Alex sounded baffled. As stupid as Erik assumed him to be, that was a stupid question even by those standards.

“Why not? What other reason could there be for them to skip lunch?” asked Raven who knew exactly where Emma and Charles had gone for lunch.

“Maybe they’re even sicker than I am of seeing your faces every lunch break,” Erik grumbled. He pushed his empty plate away and glared at the assembled gossip group. “If you excuse me, I actually prefer work over your company.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Erik.” Raven was grinning at him, an evil twinkle in her eye. “Why don’t you tell us what you think where they are. After all, you’re eating lunch and having coffee breaks with them a lot, too.”

Erik huffed. If it was up to him, murder on relatives would be legal. “You know just as well as I do that they’re on a work lunch with some customer or whatnot.”

“Man, you’re no fun at all,” Raven groaned. “It’s like you hate the idea they could be having an affair.”

“You know fully well why,” Erik hissed. That was just about it. Never, ever would he open his door for her ever again. Begging blue eyes notwithstanding.

“Oh, are you in love with Emma? Or Charles?” Angel piped up.

“That’s none of your business,” Erik hissed back at her. He stood up.

“He’s totally head over heels for Charles,” Raven informed Angel in a stage whisper.

That was the last straw. Erik slammed his tray back onto the table. “Go fuck yourself, Raven,” he growled.

“That’s as good as admitting it,” Raven challenged him.

Erik leaned forward so he could whisper in her ear. “Why are you doing this? You know how Charles and I feel about it.”

“Yeah,” Raven whispered back. “You missed the right time to tell everyone and now you’re both too afraid to say a thing.”

“That’s none of your business,” Erik growled.

“I’ll leave you alone if you tell them, Erik,” Raven hummed.

Erik didn’t deign that with a response. Instead, he straightened and grabbed his tray, ready to walk away and never talk to Raven again. Too bad they weren’t alone. And Sean just had to choose this moment to ask, “So, are you Charles’ boyfriend now or not?”

“No!” Erik snapped, just as Raven cheered, “Sort of.”

“’No’, ‘sort of’,” Hank who hadn’t said anything yet. “What kind of answer is that?”

“The same kind of answer you would give if anyone asked you about Raven.” That shut Hank up immediately. Erik had really enough of the whole bunch, but he knew he would regret saying that to Hank later.

Erik sighed. “Okay, fine.” Damn Raven and Charles and their constant insisting that he too had a heart, and a good one at that if Charles was to be believed. “Charles is not my boyfriend.” He glared pointedly at Raven. “But he’s my… urg, Raven, why couldn’t you leave that alone? Charles and I are married. There, happy now? Fucking meddling in-laws.”

Stunned silence greeted Erik’s words. Sean was even gaping at him. Angel was the first who found her ability to speak. “But Charles’ is so nice!”

“So you don’t actually eat kittens in your free time?” Alex asked. “Ouch, what? Like Charles would allow that.”

Erik gave him a flat look. “To be honest, Charles cooks them.” And with them, he left the group to their gossip. He felt a headache brewing and really wanted to talk to Charles right this instant.


	31. The one where each tries to hide a body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles killed his step-brother. It had been an accident, happened in the heat of the moment. He still has to hide the body, though. While in the woods, he meets somebody else with about the same thing in mind.

A sudden snap of a dry branch had Charles whirling around. After all, it wasn’t an every day chore to drag a dead body through the woods. In fact, Charles had never done so before. Nor had he ever planned on doing so. It had just happened that he had suddenly found himself with the body of his step brother to his feet. There was no way he would let the body get found anywhere near himself. So now he was in the middle of dark woods at night, in the dark, with spooky sounds all around him, dragging a fat, heavy corpse over the soft forest floor.

And looking directly into a halogen spotlight.

"Who’s there?" a deep voice called out to him. Charles was so startled he dropped the corpse. He shaded his eyes from the light with his hands and tried to blink against the sudden bright light threatening to make his eyes tear up.

"Er…" was all Charles got out before the man holding the light started laughing. He directed the light away so Charles could see the tall, lean figure in front of him. He also noticed the other, collapsed but still definitely human figure to the man’s feet. It took him a heartbeat or two—not that this was very long with a rapid pulse like his now—to figure out why the man was laughing. When he did, Charles fell in, if only because he was half terrified and half actually amused by the universe’s sense of humor. 

"Unbelievable," the man said when he finally stopped laughing. "Though luck, huh? I hope you don’t mind me seeing you with that." He pointed at Cain’s dead body.

"Er…I won’t tell if you don’t?" Charles stuttered. Like the guy was the one at danger here. He had never looked a killer in the eye. At least not knowingly. What if he decided that Charles was a witness he didn’t want?

But the guy laughed again. “Is that the fist time you’re doing this?”

"Why would you think so?"

"Because you’re nervous and not equipped for hiding a body in the woods," the man pointed out. "Do you even have any idea how to get out again afterwards?"

Charles gaped at him. He hadn’t thought so far when he had dragged Cain’s body from his trunk and into the woods. And would it really matter if he never found his way out of the woods again.

"Amateur," the guy huffed.

"So, what do you do now? Kill me? Leave me here to die so nobody will find out about you?" Charles didn’t want to sound challenging but he did.

"Turn that headlight out and come with me," the guy ordered. He bent and picked up the body by his feet again. He threw the body over his shoulder as if it was nothing. Probably, Charles mused, the guy was doing it more often.

That didn’t have to be a bad thing. Charles picked up Cain’s body as well and followed the guy through the woods. They walked for quite a while. Charles had no idea where they were going but the guy seemed to know the way. And he had been right, Charles had no idea where he was or how he would get out of the forest again, so there was not really any other choice. Charles knew he was acting stupid. But if he amused the guy, maybe he would get out of this alive.

"So, why did you kill him?" The guy asked when he stopped. From what Charles could see, they were at the bottom of some kind of dip. He had no idea how the guy had even found this spot.

"Do you really care?" Charles snapped. He was still out of breath. Cain had somehow gotten even heavier in death and Charles felt like the next time he murdered a Marco, he should train first. Who was he kidding, he would never ever kill anyone again. 

"Not really, but you seem nice so you need a damn good reason to kill," the guy observed. The _unlike me_  hung unspoken between them. He opened the backpack he had brought with him.

"Are you really going to bury them here?" Charles asked.

The guy looked at Charles’ like he had gone mad. And maybe Charles had, or he wouldn’t be here. 

“ _We_ aren’t going to bury them, no,” the guy explained. He sighed. “You really didn’t plan anything, did you? Killed him in the heat of the moment because… oh I don’t know, mistreated you all your life and then did something that made you snap? What did he do? Attack your mom? Or your sister? Younger brother? You wouldn’t do that for yourself.”

Charles didn’t know how to feel about the guy’s words. Naked, mostly. He had been seen through so easily by this guy. How should he trick the police then when they came to ask questions when he could not even trick a random guy he met in the woods. Granted, that random guy was a killer and had done this before, clearly, what the heck was Charles even thinking.

"So I was right about all of it?" The guy had produced a small box from the backpack and took something out of it, before he started strewing it about the body he had brought. "Drag yours a bit off. We’ll make it look like he did it."

Charles shot him a skeptical look, but did as he was told. The guy followed him soon after. He turned the body so Cain was face down. Then, he dropped something heavy next to the hand. Closer inspection revealed it to be a knife.

"Used to kill that guy," Charles’ companion explained.

"And that’s it? That’s all you’ll do to make it look like Ca-like he did it?"

The killer gave Charles a long look. “You knew him. Do you have an alibi? No? Oh my. Thank god you’re cute…” he mumbled before he held up the box. “This will attract wild animals. If the police ever finds them, there will only bones be left.”

"Oh," Charles commented. He felt stupid for not thinking about that.

"Did you park at the trail head parking place down by the highway?" The guy asked on their way back through the forest. 

Charles nodded.

"Hm, though, I parked a mile or so off. Do you want me to drive you to your car or… maybe help you getting an alibi after all?"

Charles shot him a sideways glance. “Are you hitting on me?”

"You’re the one who parked at a well known gay meeting spot." The guy shrugged. He looked down at the gps device in his hands as if he couldn’t look at Charles. "And I think you’re cute."

"I don’t even know your name," Charles protested.

"Erik," the guy offered.

"Charles," Charles answered on reflex.

"You really should be more careful the next time round, Charles," Erik remarked.

"So, Erik’s not your real name?"

"How about I tell you the answer to that question tomorrow over breakfast?"


	32. The one in which Erik beats everyone at SBB4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is horrible at video games and everyone likes to play against him until he suddenly isn't bad anymore but brilliant.

Logan grinned as he punched Raven. He turned just in time to hit Hank before he could punch him in turn. “Teaming up on me, bubs?” he growled. “We’ll see how much good that will do you!” He dashed away from them, only to stop abruptly and turn back again in order to greet them with another kick.

The kick was hard enough to send Raven, who had already taken quite a beating before, flying over the edge. He could hear her curse in the distance. That short moment of distraction, when he was relishing in his victory over Raven, was only short lived. Hank was coming at him again.

The first two punches were blocked easily and he managed to dodge the kick that followed just in time to hit Hank himself. He couldn’t hit as hard as he’d wished to and cursed.

Raven was back already and now they were attacking him from both sides. Fucking useless team mate, Charles was. Logan hammered at the buttons, trying to either suck one of his virtual foes in with his own tiny, pink sprite or to evade them and flee to Charles who apparently still hadn’t gotten the hang of video games. Or maybe he was just too distracted. Logan was sure he’d seen Charles vanish into his room followed by Erik.

Finally, he managed to flee to a platform further up. Raven made no sign that she would pursue him, instead taking on Charles instead who had finally figured out how to get down to the main event. Logan paid them no attention, focusing all his attention on Hank and his one remaining life.

Not that Logan wanted to brag but he was much better at this than Hank and thus it was not as hard as it would have been with Raven interfering to eventually smash Hank’s character off screen and into oblivion.

Logan decided to go help Charles just in time to see Charles’ character—a fucking princess, who would have thought—shoot her star at Raven’s character, blasting her off stage. Logan couldn’t help but gape for a moment. He would have sworn Charles didn’t even know what a B button looked like.

Raven had now only two lives left, while Logan and Charles had three between them. This was looking not to bad for once. Logan decided to float his way over to Charles anyway. Raven did put up a fight, just as expected. She focused on Charles—honestly, who wouldn’t have, seeing how bad Charles was at the game—but to Logan’s shock and then glee, she didn’t even come close to him before she got hit, time and time again. She even had to resort in throwing items just to hit him.

Logan watched in awe as Charles actually scored another K.O.

He could hear Raven curse from the living room where she was sitting with Hank.

Her last try wasn’t much more successful, as Logan this time decided to join into the fight. Between the two of them, he and Charles made quick work of hitting Samus off the battle field one last time.

Logan shook his head laughing when the screen proclaimed: Team Red Wins!

“Up for one last match, everyone against everyone?” Charles asked in the chat.

“You bet!” Raven replied, way quicker than either Hank or Logan could agree as well.

They quickly changed the rules from team to smash. Logan wondered for a second why Charles changed his character to Megaman, but he let it slide. It wasn’t like there was any character Charles was especially not bad with—as there was definitely none he was really good with. Those two K.O.s from before had to have been coincidence, despite the displayed skill. Button mashing could produce some results sometimes after all.

Logan was dead wrong with that assessment of Charles’ abilities, he was pained to learn only ten seconds into the fight, when Charles launched him off the main platform at a perilous angle and speed. Only barely did he managed to float back onto the stage.

Two minutes, he could again hear Raven curse from the living room. Both him and her had their ten lives reduced to a mere three, while Hank was doing his best to hold onto his last one. Charles, on the other hand, still had six. It had been long since Logan had had to deal this much damage before he had been able to K.O. an opponent.

Logan and Raven both stepped up their game, but it was in vain. Teaming up on Charles had helped, but it hadn’t been enough. They’d merely managed to reduce his lives to three this way at the point he launched Logan’s little pink balloon of a sprite off the stage. Raven followed soon after.

Logan stared incredulously at the screen.

–

Megaman wins! was on the screen as Charles took back the hand held console out of Erik’s hands. He was grinning, even more so since Raven had started to curse really loudly. “Thank you for that, darling,” said Charles, putting the DS aside.

Erik gave a shrug. “You know how to bribe a man into helping his boyfriend out.”

Charles chuckled. “Very true.” He pulled Erik close for a kiss. “Would you like your reward now or tonight?” he hummed against his boyfriend’s lips.

Erik grinned. “Tonight.” He stretched. “Right now, I rather want to go grab us something to drink, so I can see their faces. Logan is sitting in the kitchen, right?”

Charles shook his head in mock disbelief. “You’re the worst, Erik Lehnsherr!”

“Yes, I know,” Erik grinned. “But I’m also the best in this house in stupid little video games.”


	33. The one in which Charles shares Erik's nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For weeks, Charles is sharing the dreams of one of his neighbors, only to let him repeat the same nightmare time and time again. There has to be a solution and Charles is bound to find it.

Charles jerked awake in the middle of the night. This must have been the third time this week alone and he was starting to really lack sleep because of it.

It weren’t even his nightmares that woke him. At some point about two months ago, his telepathy had started to focus on the dreams of one of his neighbors. Charles had tried to stop it but short of never sleeping again, he had failed to come up with any solution for this problem.

At first, the dreams had just been the usual images without any real context. Nothing more lucid than a face or a distinct feeling now and then. Charles had wondered for a while what even had him pulled in. But glad as he was that at least he wasn’t projecting in his sleep—which would be even more awkward and might be in need of explanations—he didn’t think any more about it.

It was not until his neighbor had the nightmare again that Charles remembered. The first night, the neighbor had had the same dream Charles was not quite sure what it was after he had woken. But every time he did, he felt like he had failed to rescue someone important.

The dreams had become more frequent in the weeks since then and now they repeated almost every night. Charles knew he was close to ending the dream and saving the boy in his dream—though he was sure the neighbor dreaming the dream was an adult from what other dreams he had. He was so close and he still failed.

Charles had tried to find the neighbor a few times in their waking hours but had so far come up empty. It was like there were mental shields in place between them as soon as they woke. It was frustrating.

With a sigh, Charles sunk back onto his cushion. The alarm clock on his nightstand announced it was still in the middle of the night. He should try and get some more sleep.

_~~Charles was standing in the corner of a dark room. The room was very big, as if made for people far taller than him. Or was he just small? A kid maybe? He shivered._

_There was a patch of light over in the middle of the room. A metal stretcher was there. And on it, curled up in on himself, was another boy._

_Charles didn’t know how he got there but the next thing he knew he was standing next to the stretcher, running his hand through the boy’s hair. “I’m here,” he murmured. “We need to leave. Now. We have to go. Please. I’m here.”_

_It took a painfully long time for the boy to react—or were it mere seconds? Charles couldn’t tell. But when he finally sat up and looked at Charles with his pained blue gray eyes, Charles just had to wrap his own small arms around the other boy’s thin frame._

_They were running through long dark hallways. Charles wished they had been empty too but he knew that just around every corner there was another nightmare waiting for them and behind them, there were other nightmares chasing them, just waiting to put them back into the room and— Charles was sure he didn’t want to know what would happen then._

_They had almost, almost reached the door to the outside. Charles could already see the light. They ran faster but it didn’t get them closer. And then suddenly, a man was blocking off the light._

_The boy whose hand Charles was clutching went still. And Charles remembered. This was where the dream ended for him. Where it always ended._

_As the man came closer, Charles had to fight down the urge to do something, to meddle where he shouldn’t. The boy’s hand was shaking so bad. As were the walls around them._

_"Calm yourself," Charles whispered before he knew what he was doing. This was wrong, his mind screamed. His subconsciousness ignored him._ I just want to sleep again _, it said. "He won’t hurt you. I won’t allow it again."_

_And true enough, the shadowy man stepped aside as controlled by somebody else—by Charles. He even bowed over as if in pain and the wall next to him crumbled. But neither Charles nor the boy cared as they dashed through the door into the light and out into~~_

Charles blinked. He was staring at the ceiling. He was in his bedroom. It was early in the morning. He was a grown up. He was save. It felt unreal. It still did after a few breaths when he slowly came back from the dream and to himself. He was save. But what about the boy? Had they made it out this time?

His alarm clock had short circuited, Charles registered with half a mind.

And suddenly he was aware what had woken him. Somebody was knocking at his door. In the middle of the night. Charles reached out to the mind of who ever it was to suggest it could wait another five hours or so only to notice he already had a connection open to this mind, this beautiful, twisted, perfect mind.

Charles stumbled out of his bed and almost fell to the floor in his hurry to open the door. There he was, the boy from the dream, though not a boy but a man, wild eyed and chest heaving from what Charles knew had been a sprint up four flights of stairs.

Charles wanted to say something, explain why he had intruded the man’s dreams, make it up to him and maybe get to know this gorgeous man outside the world of their shared dreams. But looking into his eyes—stormy green now  _which went rather well with the ginger stubble on the man’s angular chin_ , a very distracted part of Charles registered—he couldn’t find the words.

He knew the man was struggling for the same, could feel him think without knowing what exactly he was thinking about.

They must have had the same solution, though. Charles had no idea who had moved first or if they hadn’t moved both at the same time. Suddenly their lips were crashing together and they were kissing frantically, like two men drowning. And it was the perfect explanation.


	34. The one in which Erik is a smith and Charles a dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I remember seeing a prompt that I can’t find anymore but went like this:
> 
> Erik is a smith, equipping heroes with weapons so they can go try kill a dragon. Little do they know Erik and the dragon Charles are working together and Erik bribes Charles with sweets so he can get the weapons back each time.
> 
> Anyway, this is my fill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If somebody could link me the prompt it would be much appreciated.

Erik took his time carefully measuring the adventurer that had come into his smithy demanding Erik to provide him with weapon and armor to go and “rid the mountain of the dragon that plagued it”. Erik had huffed, but he kept his mouth shut. That adventurer was not the first that had come to the village, droning on and on about how he would slay the beast and free the people from its regime of terror. Erik was the last who would complain, right after the local publican who made good coin from selling the poor bastards their last beers and meals before they went off up the mountain and get eaten by the dragon. Or whatever it was the dragon did to them. Erik had never cared to ask. The adventurers, knights and soldiers of fortune that came into his smithy all paid well. That was all that mattered to him.

“A breastplate you want and an ax?” Erik asked the man in front of him.

The man slapped his chest. Under the heavy leather, a chain mail rattled. Erik was glad that this one, at least, didn't expect him to cobble together one of those in a few days. “Of course. A shining plate to scare the beast who already fears the light and an ax to execute it when it's down,” the man boasted. Erik kept a blank face. It came with the job that he had so much experience in that. His mask slipped, though, when the adventurer slapped a piece of paper down on the desk. “I want this engraved on the plate,” he told Erik. “It's a fire proving spell, as I have been told.”

Erik nodded. It was not the first time he had seen that one. “I will copy it down in detail on the plate. But it will double the time and price,” he said.

The man nodded. “I'll stay with the publican. Send word when you're done.”

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Erik asked. He held out his hand. “Half price up front, I have to cover my expenses here.”

The adventurer grudgingly paid and left. Erik waited for a while, before he went back to his shop and started with the commission.

 

Two days later, he handed the ax and plate over to the adventurer and watched him leave. There were only a few people around to watch him leave with Erik. The self-proclaimed heroes and dragon slayers leaving the village had lost all novelty after the tenth time.

Erik waited two days. Of course, the adventurer didn't return. Nobody had expected him to anyway.

On the morning on the third day, Erik scrubbed his hearth first and then the sideboard next to the pump where he always cooked. He took out his favorite pan and some bowls. There was just enough in his pantry to make some caramel and a few small cakes. However, Erik thought with a smile to himself. It would always be enough to bring with him as offerings. If one of the adventurers only asked him how to approach the dragon and be nice about it, he would perhaps tell them about the secret sweet tooth of the dragon. Granted, as long as the adventurers would still be set on killing the dragon, he never would do that.

It took him to noon before he was finished. The cakes had still to cool, but they could do that just as well on his way up to the dragon's cave. Erik packed his satchel with the offerings and some food for himself and a skin of wine to share. With that, he closed up his shop and went up the mountain, the same way the adventurer must have taken three days prior.

It was a nice day and, if Erik hadn't walked this path so many times before, he would have enjoyed it. Like this, it was just a way to move from A to B. It took him a few hours to get up to the waterfall that marked the entrance to the dragon's den. It flowed into a big pond filled with crystal clear—and from personal experience—freezing water, from with a small stream flowed down the mountain side, all the way down to the village. Erik had followed it up when he'd first met the dragon, Charles.

It had been the beginning summer, when the stream had dried. It never had done that before, so the villagers had decided to send somebody upstream to check on it, so their crops wouldn't dry on the fields and they wouldn't have to go thirsty themselves. Erik had volunteered. Nobody had tried to stop him, as everyone remembered the old tales about the dragon. Oh, if Erik had remembered them too, he would have kept his mouth shut upon coming back.

He had found this pond, half dried up itself. Falling rocks had blocked the waterfall. And when Erik had climbed up the wall to see if he could get the rocks loose again, he'd suddenly found himself eye in eye with a giant, scaly face. If Charles had not reacted as fast as he had, Erik would have fallen to his death with shock.

“Did you come because of the stream?” the dragon had asked as he had put Erik down on the ground again. His voice was surprisingly soft and helped a great deal to calm Erik down enough so he was not searching for his knife anymore.

“Did you do this?” Erik had asked, with a sharp nod to the rocks.

The dragon had shaken his head. “It was the storm a while back. I can't get them loose, though. At least not alone. You don't think you could help me out here?”

Erik had thought and they had managed to remove the damn with a tree Charles had very helpfully cut down and simple leverage. However, it had been late when they had been done and Erik had spent the night up in Charles' den. Charles, he had found out then, was exactly the kind of company Erik enjoyed. Which had been why he had been rather tired the next day and stayed yet another night, before he made his way back down, promising Charles to come back as soon as it was convenient.

Back in the village, Erik had made his mistake. He had told the Elder about Charles, who had agreed with Erik that they should thank Charles from time to time for watching out for their stream. It had been just Erik's though luck, that as he had said the word dragon, a stranger had overheard and passed that on on his travels.

Soon, the first knights and would-be dragon slayers had arrived and Erik couldn't get up the mountain fast enough to warn Charles. The Elder had agreed with Erik on this and also told him to pass on to Charles that he was welcome to leave as they didn't want him to die because of their mistake. Charles, however, had only laughed and promised Erik that he would never let them kill him. And that had been, when the pact between him and Erik had been made.

For every knight or adventurer that came into Charles den and was eaten—or send away without his weapon and armor, Erik wasn't sure—Erik could get the items they had worn in exchange for sweets and a few days spent in Charles' company. Soon, upon Erik's insistence, Charles had taught him a sigil that would render the weapon useless and which Erik from then on craved hidden in every weapon he made.

“Charles!” Erik called when he was close to the den. Silence greeted him. He had long since stopped to be nervous. He knew Charles would overcome any human opponent. But now, doubt came back. Normally, Charles would already have greeted him. “Charles!” Erik called out once again. “I brought cake.”

He noticed that there were no birds singing nearby. And the next Erik knew, there was a mighty swoosh, before he was knocked to the ground and pinned down by a heavy weight.

“Help,” Erik laughed as he recognized Charles.

“You brought cake this time?” Charles asked, his nostrils so close to Erik's face only a leaf would fit between them. He made no move to get his claw off Erik.

“I did,” Erik smirked. “But I can't get to them like this.”

“Like what?” Charles asked innocently.

“Pinned to the ground, under your claw. Have you gotten heavier? I knew I shouldn't feed you that many sweets all the time.” He tried to pull the claw off.

“You're mean,” Charles huffed, but he removed his claw anyway. And, just to spite Erik, he gave Erik's face a huge lick before he pulled back entirely.

“I'm honest,” Erik declared. He sat up and brushed dirt off his clothes. “Your treats are in the satchel.”

Charles knew that, of course. He had the satchel open and searched before Erik had even closed his mouth. “Cherry cakes, my favorite,” Charles hummed. “How long are you staying this time?” He sat down with the sweets in one hand, ready to eat them with the other.

Erik leaned against Charles' leg and closed his eyes. “A few days,” he sighed. “Thanks to you, I earn so much money I think about quitting and only work for pleasure. Do you still lack a hoard?”

“Erik!” Charles sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you, I don't need a hoard!”

Erik nodded. “Yeah, but if I work exclusively for you and your hoard, it would be very convenient if I just moved my smithy up here.” He opened one eye to look at Charles. He hadn't even known dragons could blush under their scales.

“Oh,” Charles said eventually. The cakes sat forgotten on his hand. “Yes. It would be. I think I would like a hoard very much after all.”


End file.
